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LUCRETIUS 






NATURE OF THINGS. 



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CHARLES FREDERICK JOHNSON. 



INTRODUCTION AND NOTES. 





NEW YORK: 

DE WITT C. LENT & COMPANY, 

451 BROOME STREET. 

LONDON : SAMPSON LOW, SON &» MARSTON. 

1872. 






£* 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by 

DE WITT C. LENT & CO., 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



Stereotyped at tie 
WOMEN'S PRINTING HOUSE, 

Corner Avenue A and Eighth Street, 
New YorK. 



TO 
H. A. J. MUNRO 

OF / 

TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, 

TO WHOM ALL ADMIRERS OF 

LUCRETIUS 

OWE A DEBT OF GRATITUDE FOR HIS LABORS IN THE EMENDATION OF THE 

TEXT AND THE INTERPRETATION OF THEIR AUTHOR, THIS 

WORK IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED BY THE 

translator. 



INTRODUCTION". 



We have but slight personal notice of Lucretius, and what 
we have is not well authenticated. Although he is not unfre- 
quently mentioned in the literature of his own age, the only 
account of his life that has reached us cannot be traced to any 
authority near his own time. This is in the additions made by 
Jerome to the Eusebian chronicle, who states that the poet 
Titus Lucretius was born B.C. 95 ; that having been driven 
mad by a love potion, and having composed several books in 
his lucid intervals, he died by his own hand, at the age of forty- 
four. But as the first recorded notice of this is nearly four 
hundred years after his death, as the circumstances recorded 
are grossly improbable, and there is not the slightest allusion 
to them in any contemporary authority, it may be dismissed as 
unworthy of credit, and as tending only to give false impres* 
sions. Donatus, in his life of Virgil, mentions that Lucretius 

' d on the day Virgil assumed the toga virilis, at the age of 
in 1. If this be true, he died about October, b.c. 55, and to 

A appearances suddenly. These are the sole circumstances 
recorded of his life ; nor is anything whatever known of his 
family. What is certain is, that the great poem by which alone 
he is known was left unfinished at his death ; that it was pub- 
lished early in the year B.C. 54, in the state it was left by the 
author, and to all appearance without any alteration. 



. 



6 Introduction. 

Lucretius is thus known to us solely as the author of a great 
didactic poem — as the exponent of the ancient atomic philos- , 
ophy of Democritus, and the fervent teacher of the moral doc- j 
trines of Epicurus. I 

The poem " De Rerum Natura" is the sole result of his life. 
It throws but faint light upon his history. Nothing is known of 
\ his education, career, ordinary place of residence, or his for- 
tune. He is only known as a Roman citizen of noble extrac- 
tion ; from his intimate acquaintance with the Greek poets and 
philosophers, it is inferred that he studied at Athens. In his 
personal relations, he is known only from the dedication of his 
work to C. Memmius, who was praetor in 58, and bore a prom- 
inent part in the politics of the day, combining the characters 
of a politician, a man of letters, and a man of pleasure. The 
work has thus the form of a personal address, not that to a / 
patron, but on terms of equality as a friend. The repeated 
personal appeals give vivacity to the poem, and enable the 
reader to feel that he is- not so much following a written argu- 
ment as listening to the eloquent voice of a living man ea*nest 
to produce conviction. 

The poem was designed to be, (says Professor Munro, in the 
introduction to his edition of the work,) a complete exposition j 
of the physical system of Epicurus, not for the sake of the 
system itself, or barren love of knowledge, but for a moral 
purpose, to free the minds of men from what he regarded as the 
greatest of all ills, the fear of death, and the fear of the gods, 
by explaining to them the true "nature of things." To Lucre- 
tius, the truth of his philosophy was all-important ; to this the j 
graces of his poetry were made entirely subservient. To us, on 
the other hand, the truth or falsehood of his system is of ex- 







Introduction. y 

ceedingly little consequence, except as it is thereby rendered a 
comparatively better or worse vehicle for conveying the beauties 
of his language or the graces of his poetical conceptions. Is, 
then, the Epicurean system well or ill adapted to these purposes? 
As a poet can scarcely be the inventor of a new system of 
philosophy, Lucretius could hardly help adopting some one of 
those which were then in vogue ; if not the Epicurean, then the 
academical, or peripatetical, or stoical. With the first two, a 
poet could do nothing; and the stoical, for all purposes of 
poetry, was incomparably inferior both in its physical and ethical 
doctrines to that of Epicurus. Compare their one wretched 
world, their monotonous fire, their method of destroying and 
creating anew their world, with the system of Nature unfolded by 
Lucretius, grand and majestic, at least ir its general outline. 
Then look at their sterile wisdom, and still more barren virtue, 
with their repudiation of all that constitutes the soul of poetry. 
Lucretius, on the other hand, can preach virtue, temperance, 
and wisdom, with as earnest a voice as any of your stoics, and 
what inexhaustible resources does he leave himself with his 
alma Venus and dux vita diva voluptas. Lessing says Lucretius 
speaks with Epicurus when he would extoll pleasure, and with 
the porch when he would praise virtue. But this is what he 
can and does do. Virtue, at all events, he can praise on the 
broad grounds accepted by the general feelings of the world, 
without adopting the narrow and intolerant views of his adver- 
saries. 

Lucretius possessed, in as high degree as any Latin poet, 
two qualities which a poet can ill dispense with, the power of 
vividly conceiving and of expressing his conceptions in words. 
This has enabled him to master the great outlines of the 



8 Introdtiction. 

Epicurean universe of things, and by a succession of striking 
images and comparisons drawn from the world of things going 
on before his eyes, and those of his readers, to impress this 
same outline on their minds. The two first books appear to 
be quite finished, and to have received almost the last touches 
of the author, are devoted to a very complete and systematic 
account of the nature and properties belonging to the two great 
constituents of the universe, atoms and void. Given to him 
this universe in working order, there is much that is striking, 
much that may be true, much, at all events, that Newton ac- 
cepted, in this description. We, of course, care not for its 
scientific value or truth, but for its poetical grandeur and effect 
upon our imagination, and in this respect we are most amply 
satisfied. 

The third book is likewise highly finished, and shows great 
power of sustained and systematic reasoning* Here, too, if his 
premises are granted, his arguments are striking and effective, 
and carried through with the energy of fanatical conviction. 
The poetry, pathos, and satire of the latter portion of this book 
are of a very high order. The fourth book is in a much less 
complete condition than those which precede it. Yet in the 
first part, in which the Epicurean theory of images is expounded, 
he wrestles with its gigantic difficulties, and often overcomes 
them with singular power, energy, and controversial address. 
In truth, the most obvious objections to the doctrine of images 
apply almost as strongly to the Newtonian theory of the emis- 
sion of light, which in spite of them so long maintained its 
ground. The latter portions of the book, which explain the 
operations of the other senses, the way the mind and will are 
excited, are much more sketchy and unfinished. . The concluding 



Introduction. 9 

two hundred lines are very peculiar, and display a satirical vein 
as powerful and much more subtle than Juvenal. The fifth 
book is also very unequal, and evidently unfinished. The part 
in which he describes the motion of the sun and moon will 
not afford much gratification. But more than half the book, 
particularly the latter part, is in his grandest manner. Nothing 
in Latin poetry surpasses, if it even equals, these verses in 
grandeur, sublimity, and varied beauty. The sixth book is un- 
equal, like the fifth. The beginning is unsatisfactory and corr^ 
fused. Then follows a description of the nature and workings 
of thunder and lightning, the formation of clouds, carefully 
elaborated, but affording little room for the highest virtues of 
poetry. But they show quickness of observation, and power 
of describing what is observed, vivacity of narrative, fine per- 
ception of analogy, and much ingenuity of speculation. What 
follows is not so satisfactory. The poet had to include in a 
limited space a variety of questions, selected at hap-hazard, 
some of them trivial, and some treated out of all proportion to 
the subject-matter. The description of the plague of Athens 
concludes the book, taken chiefly from Thucydides. It is mani- 
festly unfinished; and though it contains much noble poetry, it 
suffers from the unavoidable comparison with the austere 
beauty and simple grandeur of its original, which the poet has 
not always understood, and from which he has sometimes de- 
parted without good cause. 

In style and language Lucretius manifestly adopted a some- 
what archaic tone, occasioned mainly by his admiration of 
Ennius and Nevius, and the old tragic poets Pacuvius and 
Attius. In Greek literature his taste seems to have carried 
him to the older and most illustrious writers. To judge from 



io Introduction. 

his imitations, he most loved and admiied Homer, Euripides, 
Empedocles, Thucydides, and Hippocrates. Plato he would 
seem to have known something of, from more than one passage. 
Epicurus, of course, he studied for other purposes than style. 
Ennius he wished to be regarded as his master and model in 
Latin poetry. Free from all jealousy and empty pretension, he 
took every opportunity of acknowledging his obligations to 
those to whom he felt indebted. First and foremost to Epi- 
curus, who showed the path which leads to truth and reason, 
without which all other gifts were vain ; and after him to De- 
mocritus and the other early Greek philosophers. Empedocles 
receives his homage as one of them, but mainly as he gave him 
the best model of a philosophical poem. Lucretius, thus to all 
appearances, stood aloof from the swarm of contemporary poets, 
~^and left them to fight and quarrel among themselves, as even 
the best of them seem to have been ready to do. We cannot 
picture him to ourselves as joining in the lampoons on Caesar, 
much as to all appearance he disapproved of his policy. — 
Munrds Lucretius — Introduction. 

We take the following account of the personal characteris- 
tics, the philosophy, moral teaching, and poetical genius of 
Lucretius from Professor Sellar's chapters on these subjects in 
his work on The Roman Poets of the Republic, and to which 
we beg to refer for fuller illustration : "As has been said, the 
spirit and purpose with which Lucretius expounds the philoso- 
phy of nature was to raise human life out of the ignorance and 
consequent misery of superstition. It is the constant presence 
of this practical purpose that imparts to his words that peculiar 
tone of impassioned earnestness of which there is no parallel in 
ancient literature. Of his personal characteristics none is more 



Introduction. 1 1 

prominent than the strong sense he entertained of the greatness 
and importance of the work in which he was engaged, the de- 
light which he took in the exercise of his art, and the passion- 
ate earnestness with which he carried on his work of inquiry 
and composition. This is something more than the delight of 
a poet in his art, a philosopher in his abstract thought, or man 
of science in the observation of nature. It combines all these 
and goes beyond them. It is the passion of his whole intellec- 
tual and moral being concentrated on the greatest subject of 
contemplation for the greatest practical object, the reformation 
of the world. 

" From many indications of the poem it may be gathered 
that Lucretius, while leading the life of a contemplative stu- 
dent, lived also much in the open air and among many varied 
scenes of nature. This appears from his clear representation 
of the aspect of outward things, and in the use of expressions 
implying that the object had passed under his own eye. The 
distinctness of his illustrations from outward objects shows that 
he possessed the clear eye of a naturalist, no less than the sus- 
ceptibility of a poet, to the life and grandeur of nature. 

" His intellectual sympathies are strongly marked, and no 
trait is more characteristic than the dogmatic confidence with 
which he maintains his own views, his admiration for the mas- 
ters of his own school, combined with intellectual contempt for 
the school most opposed to Epicureanism at Rome. Heracli- 
tus, regarded by modern students of philosophy as the subtlest 
and most suggestive thinker before the time of Plato, is de- 
scribed by him in much the same terms as a modern positivist 
might apply to a great metaphysician, ' renowned because ob- 
scure.' The traditional opposition of Democritus and Herac- 



12 Introduction. 

litus, the laughing and weeping philosophers, passed into the 
more modern systems of epicureanism and stoicism. The be- 
lievers in atoms and the believers in the fiery element of 
Heraclitus, became thus more widely separated by the real 
and radical variance in their whole theory of human life. The 
scorn which the Stoics entertained for his master was repaid in 
full measure by Lucretius. Though ardent and intense, his 
intellectual sympathies, like his doctrines, were one-sided and 
limited. The whole enthusiasm of his nature breaks forth in 

V admiration of Epicurus, whom he praises in the most extrava- 
gant terms. Still there is more real affinity of nature between 
Lucretius and another philosopher whom he names in terms of 
love and veneration, Empedocles of Agrigentum, who fur- 
nished him the model of his poem. 

" In common with all great imaginative thinkers, Lucretius 
was profoundly moved by the impulse of reverence ; but this 
feeling was in him absolutely divorced from belief in the religi- 
ous traditions of his country. The feelings of awe and vene- 
ration which the ideas of religion awake in others were called 
forth in him by the contemplation of the majesty of Nature, 
and the great minds by which her secrets have been revealed. 
The faculty by which truth is discovered he regarded as the 
divinest faculty in man. And in assigning to Homer the pre- 
eminence above all poets, he is introduced not as the poet of 
war and national glory, but as the interpreter of nature. 

" Lucretius betrays scarcely any trace of national pride or 

- patriotic enthusiasm, contrasting in this respect with Virgil. 
His poem breathes the spirit of a man altogether indifferent 
to the ordinary sources of pleasure and pride among his con- 
temporaries. Living in one of the most momentous eras of 



Introduction. 13 

antiquity, he was only repelled by its energetic and turbulent 
activity. While the sympathies he expresses are not those that 
might have been expected in a Roman writer, while he alone 
among his countrymen inherited some of the old speculative 
genius of Greece, yet more than most Romans he possessed the 
moral temper and heart of the great Republic. No extant Ro- 
man writer, with the exception perhaps of Tacitus, represents 
with so much power the gravity, the dignity, the fortitude of 
his race. But while he regards all human weakness with 
mixed pity and scorn, he has a depth of human sympathy and 
pathos equalled perhaps by no ancient writer except Homer — 
and no writer but Homer has sounded as deeply the sources 
of melancholy in human life. 

" It is, however, in his devotion to truth that Lucretius more 
than in any other quality rises clearly above the level of his 
countrymen and his age. He thus combines what is greatest 
in the Greek and Roman mind, the Greek ardor of inquiry and 
the Roman manliness of heart. He is a Roman poet of the 
time of Julius Csesar, animated with the spirit of the early Greek 
philosophers. He unites the speculative passion of the dawn 
of ancient inquiry with the real observation of its meridian ; 
and he has brought the imaginative conceptions of nature that 
gave birth to the earliest philosophy into harmony with the 
Italian love of the living beauty of the world." 

Although Lucretius claims for himself the high offices of a 
philosophical teacher, moral reformer, and a poet, it is chiefly 
as a poet and moralist that he has been admired in modern 
times. But his philosophy deserves notice, as it will be seen 
that his moral teachings and his poetry stand in close relations 
to his abstract doctrines ; and, if his poem adds nothing to the 



1 4 Introduction . 

knowledge of scientific facts, it throws a powerful light on one 
phase of the ancient mind. It is a witness to the eager imag- 
ination, the searching thought of that early time, which endeav- 
ored by individual inquiries, and the intuitions of genius, to 
explain a problem probably beyond the reach of the human 
faculties — to solve at a single glance secrets of nature which 
have only slowly and partially been revealed to the patient 
labors of many generations. 

Lucretius makes no claim to original discovery in philoso- 
phy. He limits his discussion to the practical purpose of rais- 
ing life above the terrors of superstition, the source of which 
he traced to ignorance of certain facts of nature. Without 
going here into a detailed statement of his argument, we may 
state the conclusion to which we are led, that the main purpose 
of the poem is fully answered. It presents a full and clear 
view of the philosophy that satisfied the mind of Lucretius. 
What then is the interest and value of the work, considered as 
a great argument in which the plan of nature is explained, the 
position of man in relation to that plan determined ? Is it a 
maze of ingeniously wove error, or a true movement of the an- 
cient mind, marking, indeed, its limitations, but testifying also 
to its native strength and greatness. Has the meaning of the 
controversy between science in his infancy and the pagan myth- 
ology in its decrepitude passed away, as from the vantage- 
ground of nineteen centuries the blindness of both combatants 
is apparent ? May we not discern that, amid the confusion of 
this battle in the night, great issues were at stake? that 
truths most vital to human well-being were involved? that the 
contest is still perpetuated in modern controversies, between 



Introduction. 15 

the claims of positive science and the requirements of the re- 
ligious instincts ? 

All the ancient systems of physics were one-sided, built upon 
mere assumption. They endeavored to explain, by some simple 
hypothesis, all physical, all moral, all divine existence. This 
explanation was supposed to be within the reach of the instinctive 
sagacity of the human mind, acting upon the obvious sensible 
appearances of things. 

The inadequacy of such speculations is apparent. But we 
may state some points in which the argument most obviously 
fails in premises, method, and results. The ancient, as well as 
modern inquirer, was met at starting with the question, On 
what faculty, or faculties, is "the foundation of our knowledge - 
built ? Is it obtained originally through the exercise of the 
reason, or the senses, or through their combined and insepara- 
ble action ? In answer to this, Lucretius distinctly asserts that 
the senses are the foundation of all our knowledge. Yet the 
data of his own philosophy, the " atoms," are represented as 
lying beyond the reach of this primal source of knowledge ; and 
thus, on his own principles, he has no warrant for their existence 
or properties. The first principles of his philosophy are thus 
seen to be a prioi'i assumptions, or immediate inferences from 
outward appearances. But his assumptions, if established, are 
entirely inadequate to explain the facts of creation. The order 
of nature now subsisting is declared to be the result of the man- 
ifold combination of atoms through infinite time and space ; 
but the process is conceived in the most shadowy way. To 
pass from the abstract to the concrete, to account for the pro- 
duction of a single thing, much less for the order and life of 
nature, the atoms of Democritus are as little available as the 



1 6 Introduction. 

watery element of Thales, or the fiery element of Heraclitus. 
But in Lucretius the difficulty is concealed by a latent assump- 
tion. A sort of creative capacity is given to his primary ele- 
ments, entirely inconsistent with the blind and dead mechanism 
on which his physical philosophy is professedly based. He 
assumes the presence of a secret faculty in atoms, distinct from 
their other properties. It is only on the assumption of a crea- 
tive power that any meaning or coherence can be given to his 
explanation of the mode in which all things have been formed 
from the concourse of lifeless and senseless elements. 

The weakness as well as the power of ancient science lay in 
the perception of analogies. Lucretius was not only much under 
the influence of the old analogical method of reasoning, but 
shows great power and originality in its application. Thus, his 
explanation of our mundane system is guided by the analogy 
of the human body. Not only does he speak poetically of the 
earth as the creative mother, and ether as the fructifying parent, 
but his whole conception of creation is derived from a sup- 
posed resemblance of the properties of our celestial and ter- 
restrial system to those of living beings. With the utmost 
hardihood of assertion and inference, unsupported by obser- 
vation or experiment, he was often as much in error as was 
possible to be. But the amount of information possessed by 
different ages or by different men is no criterion of their rela- 
tive intellectual powers. 

Even the intellectual life of antiquity is but partially re- 
vealed to us. But in no ancient writer is it more clearly seen 
than in Lucretius. If for nothing else, his poem would be val- 
uable to us as a witness to the ardent and disinterested curios- 
ity felt long ago to penetrate the secrets of nature, and as af- 



Introduction. 1 7 

fording examples of the clear, varied, minute observation which 
ministered to that curiosity. 

But Lucretius was not a mere poet, casting into graceful lan- 
' guage the interesting results of thought. He was a real student 
both of nature and man, and from his stores of information we 
may learn not only his errors but the happy guesses and preg- 
nant suggestions of ancient science. Thus, for instance, his 
doctrines of elemental atoms and images have a real relation to 
the more substantial theories of modern times. Moreover, the 
questions vitally affecting the position of man in the world, which 
are suggested or discussed by Lucretius, are parallel to questions 
which have risen into prominence in connection with the in- 
creasing study of nature. Most conspicuous among these, is 
the relation of physical inquiry to religious belief. Objections 
were urged against such inquiry in ancient times, on the ground 
of its impiety and unbelief. Just as there are found in modern 
times those who reprobate the audacity and insufficiency of 
reason, there were those in the time of Lucretius who de- 
nounced the inquiries into physical phenomena as dishonoring 
immortal things by mortal words. 

The views of Lucretius on the nature and origin of life, the 
progressive advance of man from the rudest condition, by the 
exercise of his senses and accumulated experience, his denial 
of final causes, his resolution of all knowledge into the intima- 
tions of sense, his materialism and consequent denial of im- 
mortality, and his utilitarianism in morals, all present striking 
parallels to the opinions of one of the great schools of modern 
thought, and one passage on the preservation and destruction of 
species looks like a faint poetic anticipation of a theory which 
has attracted much notice in the present day. 



1 8 Introduction . 

It would be more unjust to compare ancient and modern 
religion than even ancient and modern science. Yet it is not 
uninteresting or useless to observe certain tendencies that are 
brought to light in modern controversy, already anticipated 
under totally different conditions. More tolerance may per- 
haps be felt for the denial of Lucretius, in an age when a 
corrupt and decaying superstition, with its unworthy views of 
the nature of God and man, was opposed to the intimations of 
natural reason, and a true sense of human dignity, than for the 
dogmatism of extreme partisans in the present day, who from a 
spirit of irreverence, or a spirit of untruthfulness, still en- 
deavor to make the apparent divergence between true religion 
and true science irreconcilable. 

THE SPECULATIVE IDEAS IN LUCRETIUS. 

It is in the thorough grasp of great ideas, and his applica- 
tion of them to the living world in its moral and natural 
aspects, that the speculative greatness of Lucretius consists. 
The philosophy of the poem ultimately rests upon the most 
certain of all our conceptions, that of universal law and order 
in nature. The starting point of the system, " that from nothing 
nothing can spring," is itself an inference from a recognition of 
this condition. The fact of universal order is supposed to 
result from the immutable principles of atoms. But the idea 
of law is prior to the condition of all the principles he 
enounces on the nature and properties of matter. In no ancient 
author do we find the certainty and universality of law so fre- 
quently and so strongly expressed. The cardinal truth which 
Lucretius proclaimed was that creation was no work of 



Introduction. 19 

chance, or the capricious exercise of power, but arose out of 
certain regular and orderly processes, dependent upon certain 
primal conditions of which no further account can be given. 

A certain power or force, analogous to that of volition in man, 
is conceived to be inherent in the primal atoms, by means of 
which creation is able to break from the chains of fate into a 
more free development. Only on the assumption of this 
original force is creation conceived possible. The idea of 
law in nature, as conceived by him, is not the same as that of 
invariable sequence of phenomena. It implies at least the 
further idea of power, and this leads up necessarily, though not 
consciously realized by him, to the wider and higher idea of 
will. His conviction of the certainty and universality of law, 
though antagonistic to the popular religions of antiquity, is in 
no way incompatible with the convictions of modern Theism. 

The idea of law further moulded his convictions on human 
life, and imparts to his poetry that contemplative majesty with 
which it is pervaded. Man is under the same law, and is 
made free by accepting its conditions. A sense of security is 
thus gained for human life, a sense of elevation above its 
weaknesses and passions, and the courage to face its inevitable 
evils. But this absolute reliance on law does not act on his 
mind with the depressing influence of fatalism. Man is made 
free by knowledge and the use of his reason. Notwithstand- 
ing the original constitution of his nature, he can still live a life 
worthy of the gods. The idea of law gives unity and elevation 
to the whole poem, and enables him to apprehend in all the 
processes of nature a greater presence than is suggested by the 
outward appearances of things. 

It is further to be observed how his conception of the eter- 



20 Introduction. 

nity and infinity of his primordial atoms and space supports him I 
in his antagonism to the popular religion. The immensity of 
the universe is declared incompatible with the constant agency 
and interference of the gods. This, while setting aside the \ 
gods of ancient mythology, really involved a latent sense of / 
omnipotence. It is a step, at least, in advance towards a 
higher and truer conception of the attributes of Deity. The j 
power of this conception is also seen in the poet's deep sense 
of the littleness of human life, called forth by the ever-present 
sense of the Infinite and Eternal. But this, while it gives a 
feeling of the pathos of human life, does not lead to cynicism 
and despair, but fortifies him to suppress all personal com- 
plaints in the presence of ideas so great and awful. 

The abstract properties of atoms are not mere arbitrary 
assumptions. Law, change, infinity, individuality, are the sub- 
stantial truths of which the primary doctrines of the atomic 
philosophy are the shadows. The sum oftheu philosophy of 
Lucretius is a recognition of the unity, the diversity, the orders ** 
and life of nature. But there is, further, all that is involved in 
the idea of an organic whole, and to this whole new attributes l 
are attached, inconsistent with the principles of the atomic 
philosophy. 

In emancipating himself from the religious traditions of an- 
tiquity, Lucretius did not escape the power of an idea, rooted 
not only in all past thought, but in the depths of human con- 
sciousness, the idea of God. Though the truth of the idea 
was neither consciously accepted nor consciously denied by 
him, there is yet, in his conception of nature, the idea of a con- 
cealed Omnipotence pervading the whole. This conception is 
with him as much a religious as a speculative and practical idea. 



Introduction. 21 

Jt rises above the old mythological modes of thought, estab- 
lishes itself upon them as 1 new principle, but is not entirely- 
independent of them. Though, more than any other an- 
cient writer, Lucretius was free from the direct influence of 
religious traditions, his thoughts were shaped by the same im- 
aginative impressions that gave birth to the old mythologies. 
Under the influence of these associations, in the invocation to 
the poem, he identifies the mysterious power of nature with 
the goddess of love, and the mythical ancestress of the Roman 
people ; and he invokes this power as the source of all life in 
the world, and of all grace and accomplishment in man, to aid 
him in his task and give beauty to his words. There is in this 
passage, at least, an acknowledgment of a living power, indepen- 
dent of and superior to man, to whose sway, whether harsh or 
benignant, man, in common with all other creatures, is subject. 

It is this conception of nature which brings the abstract 
philosophical system of Lucretius into complete harmony with 
his poetical feelings and his moral convictions. The poetry of 
the living world is thus breathed into the dry bones of the 
atomic theory. The contemplation of nature satisfies the imag- 
ination of Lucretius, by her aspects of power and life, immensity 
and beauty ; but with his poetical emotion there is a deeper 
feeling interfused. There is through all his poem a pervading 
solemnity of tone, as of one awakening to the consciousness 
of a great invisible power in the world. His language in many 
places implies a latent sense of a truth inconsistent with the 
negative principles of his philosophy. 

This inconsistency may be accounted for by the fact that he 
often leaves the beaten track of epicureanism for the higher, 
but less definite, paths to which the religious enthusiasm and 



22 Introduction. 

ardent genius of Empedocles had borne him. But the incon- 
sistency may be accounted for on other grounds. For, though 
the mechanical view of the universe may be accepted by the 
understanding, it has never been acquiesced in by the higher 
speculative faculty which combines the feelings of the imagina- 
tion with the insight of the reason. The imagination which 
recognizes the presence of an infinite life and harmony in 
the world rises to the recognition of a creative and govern- 
ing power, which it cannot help endowing with conscious- 
ness and will. The acknowledgment of this Power was at 
least an advance on the superstition and idolatry of the popu- 
lar religion. It enabled the poet to contemplate human life 
with some sense of security and elevation, and imparted a more 
earnest feeling to his enjoyment of the beauty of the world. 
His belief is not atheistic nor pantheistic ; it is not definite 
enough to be theistic. It is rather the twilight between an old 
and a new faith, " When it was not yet morn, but the gray 
twilight of dawn." — II. viii. 483. 

THE MORAL TEACHING OF LUCRETIUS. 

There is no necessary connection between the atomic phi- 
losophy and that view of the end and object of life which 
Lucretius derived from Epicurus. By the ordinary Epicurean, 
his philosophy was valued chiefly as affording a basis for the 
denial of Divine providence and the immortality of the soul. 
But there is a wide difference between the ordinary Epicurean 
and that serious and solemn view of human life which was first 
given to the world in the poem of Lucretius. Epicureanism in 
its earliest form was the expression of a character as unlike as 



Introduction. 23 

possible to that of Lucretius. It was a doctrine suited to the 
easy social and literary life which succeeded the great political 
career — the energetic ambition and creative genius which en- 
nobled the earlier Athenian life. 

It is a strange sign of moral confusion of his time to see the 
ethical doctrines of Lucretius emanating from the denial of the 
highest hopes of mankind. Few writers of antiquity have pre- 
sented a purer or more solemn view of human life, or were more 
profoundly impressed with the serious import and mystery of 
our being, yet he denies the foundation of religious belief with 
all the zeal of religious earnestness. 

He reproduces the calm, unimpassioned doctrines of Epi- 
curus in a new type, earnest, austere, and ennobled, enforcing 
them, not for the sake of ease or for the love of pleasure, but 
in the cause of truth and human dignity. Although no new 
principle or maxim of conduct appears in his teaching, the view 
of life presented by him was really something new in the world. 
The spirit with which Lucretius contemplated the world was 
different from that of any other man of antiquity, especially 
different from that of his master in philosophy. To one life 
was a scene of enjoyment, to the other it was the sad and 
tragic side of the august spectacle which all nature presents to 
the contemplative mind. This difference in the spirit, rather 
than the letter of their philosophy, is to be attributed in some 
degree to this, that Lucretius was a Roman of the antique 
type, inheriting the brave endurance of the great Republic ; 
partly to the imaginative contemplation which he shares, not 
with any of his countrymen, but with a few great thinkers of 
every age. 

Partly, too, this new aspect of epicureanism was due to the 



24 Introduction. 

reaction of his nature from the confusion and insecurity of the 
times in which he lived. While the pomp of armies impressed 
his imagination, he entertained a deep sense of the inhumanity 
of war, strange in a Roman of that or any age. Although his 
nature was of the firm Roman fibre, although deeply imbued with 
the philosophy of Greece, and, like all great thinkers, not free 
from the influence of his time, he was one of the most con- 
spicuously original men whom Rome produced — the man who in 
thought and feeling rose most clearly above the range of his 
age and country. 

The moral teaching of the poem may be described rather 
as an active protest against various forms of evil, than as the 
proclamation of any positive good. Hence, his tone is often 
more that of a stoic than of an epicurean — a proof, as has 
been remarked by Professor Munro, of the inward identity 
of the two systems. In resistance to common forms of 
evil they were at one, and in the positive good to which he 
aspired his spirit is more stoic than epicurean. While his 
sense of the dignity of human nature was stronger than his 
regard for human happiness, yet, with the strength of stoicism, 
his philosophy enabled him to cherish humaner and more gen- 
eral sympathies with life. 

With Lucretius, the great evil of life is superstition. But 
while every line of his poem is a protest against the religious 
errors of antiquity, he shows a feeling of true reverence for, 
and recognition of, what appeared to him most holy and divine 
in man. He denounces the errors of popular religion as a 
violation of the majesty of the gods. While his belief in the 
gods is expressed in shadowy outline and poetical symbolism, 
it is clear that he recognizes both an orderly, mysterious, all- 



Introduction. 25 

pervading power in nature, and also the ideal of a purer and 
serener life than that of earthly existence. Though his denial 
extended not only to all the fables and false conceptions of the 
old mythology, but to the doctrine of Divine providence rec- 
ompensing men either here or hereafter for their actions, yet v 
this denial in him is not to be judged in the spirit with which 
the denial of a personal God would be judged in modern times. 
He could not reconcile his conception of law and order with 
any conception he could form of the Divine action on the 
world. His deep sense of human rights, and sympathy with 
human feelings, rebelled against the capricious action of gods to 
be propitiated by sacrifice. In elevation of feeling, and truth 
of conception, Lucretius rises not only above the popular 
mythology, but in some way above all but the loftiest minds 
of antiquity. 

The practical use of the philosophy of Lucretius is, first, to 
inspire confidence in the room of an ignorant and superstitious 
fear in the course of nature ; second, to show what human 
nature needs, so as to clear the heart, by knowledge of artificial 
desires and passions, and open the mind to natural enjoyments. 
No doctrine is enforced in the poem with more sincerity of 
conviction than the dignity of plain and natural living : the 
vanity of the appliances of wealth, their inability to give real 
enjoyment to either body or mind. But no writer of antiquity 
is less of an idealist than Lucretius ; none, either ancient or 
modern, whose words are more truthful and unvarnished ; none 
who has shown more independence of external things, more 
real scorn for the pomps and pleasures of the world. 

The passion of love assumed great prominence in the Roman 
world in the age of Lucretius. With this phase of life, so alien 



26 Introduction. 

to the dignity of Roman character, Lucretius had no sympa- 
thy. Though no Roman writer showed a profounder reverence 
for the natural affections, none has treated the claims of passion 
and sentiment with more austere indifference. 

The chief interest which attaches to his moral teaching 
arises from his intensity of feeling, sincerity of conviction, and 
independence of view. A modern reader may sympathize 
with much of his spirit without resting in any of his conclu- 
sions ; may recognize in him a rare courage and consistency of 
thought, a real superiority to the weakness and vanity of life, a 
firm faith in the law and order of the universe, and in his pro- 
test against the popular religion may see the undeveloped 
capacity of a better belief. 

The chief form of activity of his age was politics and com- 
merce, pursued with no other principle than the lust of personal 
aggrandizement. He thus saw, in the active interests and pur- 
suits of the world around him, the worst types of human evil. 
Hence, a life of peace, not of energy, became his ideal. 

The definite results of his philosophy, while they cannot pos- 
sibly influence modern opinion, are yet of interest, as showing 
the independent conclusions on the most vital subjects which 
the course of ancient thought and life forced on one of the 
most earnest men and consistent thinkers of antiquity. 

POETICAL STYLE AND GENIUS OF LUCRETIUS. 

Although the subject of Lucretius, and his method of treat- 
ing it, is uncongenial to the purposes of poetry — which is 
little suited to the slow process of investigation — the poem, 
when read consecutively, notwithstanding the unpoetical nature 



Introduction. 27 

of much of the detail, produces the impression of a pervading 
passion and inspiration. His poetical style is chiefly marked 
by a freshness and fulness of meaning, and by a daring use of 
metaphorical expressions. Few poets convey so much mean- 
ing by the use of single words expressive of the full and literal 
truth of things. So, too, he conveys a deep and solemn sense 
of human life by the grave and almost literal fidelity of his 
language. Few great poets have indeed been more sparing in 
the use of mere poetical ornament. The earnestness of his 
speculative and practical purpose restrains all exuberance of 
fancy. His imaginative analogies are more often latent in 
single expressions than drawn out at length. But the few 
which he has elaborated, unlike most of the transient and fan- 
ciful imagery of poetry, stand out, as has been said,* "with the 
solidity of the finest sculpture," to embody some deep and pow- 
erful thought for all time. 

But it is as the interpreter of Nature in the more familiar 
aspects of human life that Lucretius has employed his power of 
poetical feeling and expression. More than any ancient, or 
perhaps than any modern poet, he has given a true and great 
utterance to the majesty and power of nature. Nature how- 
ever, the life of the world, does not appear to him as an ab- 
straction, or as a vast system of forces and laws, but as a living 
power, analogous to the active and moral energies of man. He 
shares the same sympathy with the life of nature, the same 
vivid sense of wonder and delight in her familiar aspects, the 
same imaginative perception of her innermost meaning, that led 
the early Greek mind to people the world with the living forms 

* Prevost-Paradol, Nouveaux Essais. 



28 Introduction. 

of the old mythology, and which has been felt anew by the 
great poets of the present century. 

As the contemplative poet of human life, Lucretius displays a 
power of feeling and penetration equally deep and original, but 
infinitely less buoyancy and freshness of spirit. He is deeply 
impressed with the thought both of the dignity and littleness of 
our mortal state. His imagination is involuntarily moved by 
the pomp and grandeur of affairs, while his strong sense of 
reality keeps ever present to his mind the conviction of the 
vanity of outward state, the weariness of luxurious living, and 
the miseries of ambition. 

His poem shows that he was a diligent student of the great 
works of earlier times, as well as a most original thinker and 
poet. He has, in common with Homer, the clear and varied 
observation of the outward aspects of nature, and something 
also of his deep and true insight into the mind and heart of 
man. His accurate observation of facts as the ground work 
of historical and political reflection, his masculine sense and 
contempt for superstition, remind the reader of some of the 
most marked characteristics of Thucydides. 

With all his affinities to some of the greatest men of earlier 
times, he has also much in common with the spirit and genius 
of modern times. In his contemplation of human life, he com- 
bines the profound feeling of Pascal with the speculative eleva- 
tion of Spinoza. The loftier tones of his poetry may be com- 
pared with the sustained dignity and majesty of Milton. His 
sympathy with nature, at once fresh and imaginative, is more 
like the feelings of the great poets of the present century than 
the general sentiment of ancient poetry. His strong intel- 
lectual and poetical feeling is united with some of the rarest 



Introduction. 29 

and noblest moral qualities — with great fortitude, earnestness 
of feeling, unswerving love of truth, a manly and genuine ten- 
derness of heart. And while it is not to be forgotten that he 
used his great powers of heart, understanding, and genius in 
support of a cause which is now seen to be most fatal to 
human happiness and advancement, it must be remembered 
that he lived at a time when the most truthful mind might have 
despaired of the Divine government of the world, and might 
have honestly felt it was well to escape at any cost from the 
burden of Pagan superstition. As has been said by the great 
modern historian (Mommsen), his unbelief came forward, and 
was entitled to come forward, with the full, victorious power of 
ruth, and therefore with the full vigor of poetry, in opposition 
to the prevailing faith of hypocrisy and superstition. 

HOW LUCRETIUS HAS BEEN ESTIMATED. 

Standing, as Lucretius did (we quote from Professor Muhro's 
Introduction), entirely aloof from what would most excite the 
sympathies of his contemporaries, there is not much to show 
what reception his poem met with from his countrymen. It 
sufficiently appears, however, that he and Catullus were justly 
esteemed the two greatest poets of their age. Yet, there can 
be no doubt that his work came into the world at a time very 
unfavorable for the fame of its author. He would take no 
part in the great movement then in active progress, which 
ended in producing the works of Virgil, Horace, and Ovid, and 
fixed once and forever the standard of Roman poetical taste. 
The splendor of their reputation threw into the shade that of 
their greatest predecessors — Ennius, Lucretius, and Catullus. 



30 Introduction. 

Virgil was fifteen years of age when Lucretius' poem was given 
to the world. At an age, then, to be fully impressed with its 
style and manner ; and perhaps the highest eulogy which has 
ever been passed on him is that constant imitation of his lan- 
guage and thought which pervades Virgil's works from one end 
to the other. Catullus gives frequent proofs of imitation. 
Horace shows that he had carefully studied him. And Ovid, in 
his "Metamorphoses," and elsewhere, has paraphrased whole 
passages of his poem. He was not known to Dante and Pe- 
trarch, but Tasso has imitated parts of his poem. 

The Italian scholars of the fifteenth century admired no Latin 
poet more than Lucretius, Virgil alone excepted. The illustri- 
ous French scholars of the sixteenth century, Lambinus, 
Scaliger, Turnebus, pronounced him one of the greatest if not 
the greatest of Roman poets. 

Spenser, in the fourth book of the " Fairy Queen," has given 
an exquisite paraphrase of the address to Venus ; Milton, and 
I believe Shakespeare, not unfrequently borrowed from him 
thoughts and phrases. In our days he has obtained high praise 
from Wordsworth and Coleridge. The critics of Germany 
have showed little sympathy with him, with the brilliant ex- 
ception of Goethe. In England, the most recent account of 
the philosophy and poetry of Lucretius, that of Professor Sel- 
lar, is at the same time the fullest and the most favorable. 

To conclude, Professor Munro says in another place ("Jour- 
nal of Classical and Sacred Philology," March, 1804), it would 
hardly, perhaps, do violence to the taste of the present age to 
call Lucretius the greatest of extant Latin poets. Like the 
rest of his countrymen, he is not a great creative genius. He 
owed much to the old epic and tragic Roman poets, and still 



Introduction. 31 

more to the Greeks, especially Empedocles. But he has merits 
of his own, unsurpassed in the whole compass of Latin poetry. 
It has often struck me that his genius is akin to that of Milton. 
He displays a wonderful depth and fervor of thought, expressed 
in language of singular force and beauty ; an admirable faculty 
of clear, vigorous, and well-sustained philosophical reasoning; 
and a style equal in its purity and correctness to that of Ter- 
ence, Caesar, or Cicero, and superior to that of any writer of 
the Augustan age. 

The foregoing is taken mainly from the Chapters on Lu- 
cretius, in Prof. Sellar's interesting work on the Roman 
Poets of the Republic. It suffers here from the necessity of 
condensation and omission. For its due appreciation I would 
refer to the work itself, where it is justified and supported by 
copious extracts from the original. I beg to express my 
thanks to Prof. Seilar, and also to Prof. Munro, for their 
kind permission to make such use of their materials as I might 
see fit. My obligations to Mr. Munro' s admirable edition of 
Lucretius have been constant ; although a first draft of my 
translation was completed before I had the advantage of his 
labors, it has been revised with his work constantly in hand. 

Lucretius, it must be admitted, presents formidable diffi- 
culties to a translator, inasmuch as his subject-matter is not 
suited for poetical treatment, and much of the details (as has 
been said, " mathematics put into rhythm ") no art of the poet 
could make attractive. The translator must do the best with 
them that he can, though sensible of their dreariness. It is 
only in exceptional parts, where he pauses in the career of his 
argument to give expression to his views of nature and human 
life, that his poetical powers have full scope. 



32 Introduction. 

Little need be said of my own work. It has been the 
pleasing occupation of many years — of more than I am now 
willing to recall. A first draft was completed when as yet no 
classical author had found a translator in this country. I have, 
in general, aimed to be faithful to my original. In one long 
passage, at the close of the Fourth Book, I have given a free 
paraphrase, rather than any approach to a literal rendering. I 
have endeavored to make my work worthy of my author — who 
has inspired me with an almost personal interest — who was 
one of the most sincere and elevated characters of antiquity ; 
whose ardent, but tender and sympathetic soul deserved a 
better fate than to be condemned to a philosophy without con- 
solation, and a religion without hope. If I have succeeded in 
making him known to a wider circle than would have been 
likely to have sought him in the original, I shall be fully com- 
pensated for the time and labor devoted to my work. 

But though that labor has brought, in a great measure, its 
own reward in the pleasure it has afforded, I have not the less 
been sustained by the hope, which, though it prove fallacious, 
I trust will not be deemed presumptuous, of adding something 
to the literature of my country. 

The Translator. 

Owego, New York, May, 1871. 



BOOK I. 



COSMOGONY. 

Invocation. — Dedication to Memmius. — Statement of Subject. — Super- 
stition. — Sacrifice of Iphigenia. — Necessity of Sound Philosophy. — 
First Principles. — Nothing can come from Nothing. — Matter Eter- 
nal. — Of the Void. — All Nature consists of Matter and' Void. — Of 
Time. — Atoms Solid and Indestructible — Have Parts— Their Parts 
Minima. — Refutation of the Doctrine of Heraclitus, that Fire is 
the Element of All Things — And of that of Empedocles, of Four 
Elements. — Description of Sicily. — Praise of Empedocles. — Refuta- 
tion of the Doctrine of Anaxagoras. — The Universe Infinite. — 
Matter and Space Infinite — Limit Each Other. — How the World 
was Formed. — Against the Stoics. — Conclusion. 



BOOK I. 



Mother of Romans ! joy of men and gods, 
Benignant Venus ! thou whose presence fills 
All things beneath the gliding signs of heaven, 
Throughout ship-bearing seas, corn-bearing lands — 
Since 'tis through thy soft influence conceived 
All living things rise to behold the light — 
Before thee, Goddess ! thee ! the winds are hushed, 
Before thy coming are the clouds dispersed, 
The plastic earth spreads flowers before thy feet, 
Thy presence makes the plains of ocean smile, 
The sky shine placid with diffused light. 
Soon as the vernal day unlocks the year, 
And zephyrs breathe their fecundating breath, 
The aerial birds, smit by thy genial power, 
Goddess divine, blithe herald thy approach ; 
The untamed herds o'er the glad pastures bound 
And swim the rapid streams ; thus, by thy charms 
Ta'en captive, all that lives with eager pant 
Follow thy influence wheresoe'er it leads. 
Then through all seas, the mountains and the streams, 
The leafy home of birds, the verdant plains, 
Infusing gentle love to every breast, 



36 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Thou causest glad renewal of their tribes. 

Since thou alone all Nature rulest thus, 

Nor without thee can aught to light arise, 

Nor can aught joyous or aught lovely be, 

Oh ! be thou then companion to the verse 

Which I for Memmius essay to frame 

On the true form and nature of all things, 

For him whom, Goddess, thou would'st have excel, 

With every grace adorned. The rather, then, 

Immortal grace give, Goddess, to my words, 

And cause meanwhile that the fierce arts of war 

Throughout all seas and lands, hushed to repose, 

May rest. For thou alone with tranquil peace 

Canst mortals bless, since Mars, potent in arms, 

Rules war, who oft upon thy bosom sinks 

O'erpowered and bound by love's eternal wound. 

Thence looking up with rounded neck turned back, 

And lips apart, feeding his gaze with love, 

Supine suspends his breath upon thy mouth. 

O'er him recumbent hang thy sacred form, 

And thus pour thou from thy sweet lips sweet words, 

Imploring, Goddess, placid peace for Rome. 

For neither in our country's adverse hours, 

Can I with tranquil mind this theme pursue, 

Nor can a scion of the Memmian stock, 

Be such time wanting to the common weal. 

Now, Memmius, as I approach my theme, may you, 
With mind unprepossessed, all care removed, 



Book I. 37 

Apply attentive ears to reasoning sound, 

Lest from my gifts, with faithful zeal arranged, 

Despised ere understood, you turn away ; 

For I propose deep dissertation on 

The system of the heavens, and the gods, 

And to unfold the elements of things, 

Whence Nature all creates, sustains, and feeds, 

To which again destroying she resolves ; 

Which we are wont explaining to assume, 

And call "creative principles" "begetting forms," 

"Matter," "prime bodies," and the "seeds of things," 

Since from them first as Elements things rise. 



. When human life lay prostrate upon earth, 

Basely oppressed by Superstition dire, 

That from the heavens her horrid front displayed, 

O'erhanging mortals with a baleful gaze — 

A Greek the first 'mongst mortals dared to raise 

His eyes against the fiend and her resist. 

Him not the fame of gods, nor lightning's glare, 

Nor heaven reverberating thunder could restrain ; 

But they the more in his intrepid soul 

Excited proud desire to be the first, 

To burst the bars of Nature's closed gates. 

And thus prevailed his burning ardor, forth 

Passing beyond the flaming bounds of space, 

With fervid mind surveying the profound ; 

Thence he brought back victorious unto us 

What can exist, what not ; how powers in all 



38 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

Own limits, hemmed by bounds profoundly fixed. 
Thus in its turn is Superstition crushed ; 
The victory makes us equal with the gods. 

And here I fear lest you perchance should think 
I'm entering on the elements of vice, 
And would induct you in the path to crime ; 
When oftener far foul Superstition hath 
Produced accursed and most impious deeds. 
As when in Aulis once the Grecian chiefs, 
The flower of men, stained basely with the blood 
Of Iphigenia virgin Dian's altar. 
When o'er her charms the sacred veil was thrown, 
That flowed divided down on either cheek, 
She at the altar saw her father stand, 
And near the priest with ill-concealed steel ; 
While at the sight her countrymen shed tears, 
She, mute with fear submissive, sought the earth ; 
Nor in that hour could it avail her grief 
That first she gave king a father's name. 
All trembling, by the hands of men upborne, 
She to the altar comes ; not that, due rites performed, 
She may go thence attended by a choir 
Of youths and maidens chanting nuptial songs, 
But stainless, stained with blood, in age of love, 
She falls a victim by a father's hand, 
That winds may favor and the fleet depart. 
Such and so great are Superstition's crimes. 



Book I. 39 

Yourself sometimes will seek escape from me, 
Harrowed by terrors of the seer's words. 
Full well thou may'st; for look how many dreams 
And phantoms dire might they for you invent, 
Subverting reason as the guide of life, 
And palling all the future with grim fears. 
But could men once a certain term perceive 
To all their woes, they might perchance resist 
To superstitious fears and priestly threats. 
But now, no ground of sure resistance's left, 
> Some endless punishment they dread in death, 
All ignorant of the nature of the soul, 
Whether born with us, or infused at birth, 
Whether it, mortal, dies with us in death, 
Or wanders after in (hell's vast profound, 
Or by a power divine, transferred to forms 
Of animals as our Ennius sung — Ennius, 
The first to gather an unfading crown 
From banks of Helicon — a crown that shines 
Resplendent still throughout Ausonian lands. 
Though yet he paints in his immortal verse 
The Acherusian courts, where neither souls 
Of men nor bodies can endure, but pale 
And wandering ghosts in wondrous guise appear, 
And where, as he relates, the immortal shade 
Of Homer, clothed in youth, rose on his path, 
With tears fast flowing, words oppressed with sighs, 
Nature's unveiled secrets 'gan disclose. 



40 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Wherefore we must the ruling cause explore, 
That reigns above ; by reasoning sound, define 
The laws which guide the courses of the stars, 
The powers which act throughout the world's vast frame 
And most of all, deep-prying must explore 
The nature of the soul, and thinking mind, 
And what the forms that on our vigils rise 
When, racked by sickness, or oppressed by sleep, 
We seem to see before us, and to hear 
Voices of those long sunk in death, whose bones 
The Earth holds silent in her cold embrace. 

Nor am I not aware how difficult it is 
With fulness to explain in Latin verse 
The deep, obscure discoveries of the Greeks, 
When I new terms for many things must frame 
From pov'rty of our tongue — from novelty of theme ; 
But not the less thy virtues me inspire, 
And hoped-for pleasure of thy friendship dear, 
Labor, however great to undergo, 
In study to outwatch long nights serene, 
Seeking the choice expression and the verse 
That to your mind shall a bright light unfold, 
And full all deep and hidden things reveal. 

Those terrors, and that darkness of the mind, 
Not by the sun's bright rays, arrows of day, 
Can be dispelled ; rather by reasoning sound, 
Unfolding Nature in her forms and laws. 



Book I. 41 

First principle of which I thus announce, 
''That nothing can from nothing come — not e'en 
By power divine," — though miserable fear 
Oppresses men in that they much perceive, 
The efficient cause of which they can't discern. 
But in this matter, when they're brought to see 
That nothing can from nothing come, they then 
What follows thence more rightly will perceive, 
And learn the origin whence all may come, 
And all be done without the help of gods. 

For if from nothing anything could spring, 
All living things we see might take their birth 
Indifferently from all, needing no seed. 
Men from the sea would rise ; the scaly tribe 
Burst from the cloddy earth ; the feathered fowl 
From air, the lowing herds and savage beasts, 
Chance-born, possess alike the cultured and the wild ; 
While fruits, no longer constant to their boughs, 
Would spring from thorns as from Pomona's tree. 
Chance would rule all, since each could other bear, 
Confusion endless Nature's realm possess. 
For were there not fixed generative seeds 
What certain origin could there be for aught ? 
But now, since all from distinct seeds are formed, 
Rise to the light where' only seeds exist, 
All cannot spring indifferently from all, 
A secret principle controls their birth. 



42 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Why brings the Spring the rose, the Summer corn, 
And humid Autumn the full-clustered grape, 
If not that seeds in their fit time unfold, 
And thus uprear the universe of things, 
Each in its own propitious season meet? 
Thus the life-giving Earth brings tender germs 
In a safe season to the shores of light, 
Which, if from nothing sprung, would sudden rise, 
In place unfit — in inauspicious hour ; 
No principle existing that with genial power 
Might ward their coming from a hostile shore. 

Again, what need of space or time to grow, 
If things from nothing could their forms uprear, 
Since men full-grown from infants would start up, 
And stately trees leap sudden from the Earth ? 
We know full well that none of these can be, 
Since all with gradual increase swell and grow 
From certain seeds, and proper nurture take, 
In due proportion from appropriate store. 
And further add, that without genial showers 
The Earth could not her joyous fruits unfold. 
Nor without food could animals subsist, 
Their races propagate, or their lives transmit. 
Nay, rather think full many elements, 
Common to things, as letters are to words, 
Than without elements anything can be. 

Why does not Nature men of size produce, 



Book I. 43 

To pass on foot the deep bed of the sea, 

And tear down lofty mountains with their hands, 

With length of life outlasting many an age ; 

If not that fixed matter is prepared, 

From which they spring, through a creative power, 

Determining what may— what cannot be — 

Confess that nothing then from nothing comes, 

Since need there is to all of primal seeds, 

From whence created, wherein dwells the power 

To lift their bosoms to the wooing air ? 

Why does the cultured field excel the wild, 
And richer harvests to our hands supply, 
But that in Earth the seeds of things are hid, 
Which, as the share the fertile furrow turns, 
We open to the sun and force to spring ? 
For were there not, without our idle aid, 
Things far more glorious would spontaneous rise. 

Again, when Nature, as we see, dissolves 
All things in death, in sooth she but resolves 
Things to their elements, and naught destroys. 
For were the elements themselves exposed 
To sheer destruction by the shock of fate, 
Things from before our eyes, on sudden snatched, 
Would disappear without the need of force 
Their parts to sever, or their ties dissolve. 
But since there is in things something etern, 
Made up of which the universe consists, 



44 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Until the force to shatter them arrives, 

Or fermentation with its subtle powers 

Invades their pores, and thus their forms dissolves, 

Nature no death allows throughout her realm. 

Besides, if all which time through wasting age 
Removes, perished entire — its matter lost, 
How then could Love through generation bring 
The tribes of animals to renewed life ? 
Or how Daedalian Earth, when brought, sustain, 
Supplying food through her creative powers ? 
Or how the native fountains and the streams 
Far-winding pour their tribute to the sea ? 
How Ether feed the censor of the stars, 
Since the long past eternity must have 
Consumed sheer all things of mortal mould ? 
But since through ages past something endures, 
Made up of which the universe consists, 
Sure with immortal being 'tis endowed, 
And nothing sinks in utter nothingness. 

Were matter not eternal, and upheld 
By ties of various strength, one shock would whelm 
In one destruction all created things. 
A touch for dissolution would suffice, 
And slightest shock more than sufficient be 
The bond of things to shatter and dissolve. 
But since unequal ties their elements unite, 
Matter eternal is ; and all remains 



. Book I. 45 

Safe and intact until a force assails 

Of power sufficient to dissolve their ties. 

Again — again, nothing to nothing turns, 

But all by dissolution render up, 

Nor more than this, their elements again. 

Although the showers that Father Ether pours 
Upon the bosom of the Mother Earth 
Sink as they fall, and perish from our sight, 
Hence goodly crops of grain spring up, and boughs 
Grow green on trees and load themselves with fruit; 
Hence are the races fed of men and beasts ; 
Hence joyous cities bloom with boys and girls, 
And groves resound with the. new song of birds ; 
The full-fed herds, weary through pastures glad, 
Repose "their ample forms upon the grass, 
While drops distil from udders full distent ; 
Hence the new races sport their pliant limbs 
Upon the tender herb, their youthful hearts 
Made glad with milk, and joyous as with wine. 
How then can aught we see perish entire, 
Since Nature, working in perpetual round, 
From one's destruction builds another up, 
And with each birth joins a close neighbor, death ? 

Now, since I've taught that nothing can be formed 
From nothing, nor again to naught return, 
Lest you perchance my words distrust, because 
You nowhere see the elements of things, 



46 Titus Lucretius - Cams. 

Learn now of bodies which you must confess 

Exist in things, but yet nowhere can see. 

First, when incited winds o'er ocean sweep, 

Dispersing clouds, o'erwhelming mighty ships, 

Or o'er the plains in rapid whirlwinds borne, 

Strew them with trunks of trees uprooted rent, 

Vexing the hills with forest-rending blasts — 

So raves the wind, and howls with threatening roar — 

Thus secret bodies sure exist in winds 

Which sweep the sea, the land, the clouds of heaven, 

And them tormented in swift whirlwinds hurl ; 

Nor rage they less, nor devastate unlike 

To gently flowing rivers, sudden made 

A whelming torrent by -the fall of rains 

And rush of waters from the lofty hills. 

See how it bears the uprooted woods along, 

Nor can the ponderous bridges' strength sustain 

The weight of waters, while the rushing stream 

O'erbears its dykes, and, with resistless power, 

Rolls rocks immense beneath the roaring flood ; 

There raging most where most opposed, it spreads 

Wide devastation round with deafening roar. 

So raving blasts of wind comport and bear 

Like to a mighty stream impetuous down, 

Prostrating all opposed, and, shouldering before, 

And seizing, bears them on in rapid whirls. 

Sure then their bodies are unseen in winds, 

Since thus they emulate the mighty streams 

In which are bodies as well all can see, — 



Book I. 47 

So various odors we perceive in things, 

Yet naught material see the organ strike. 

Nor heat, nor cold, nor sounds, can eye discern, 

Though all of corpor'al nature must consist, 

Since they the senses strike; for know, bodies 

Alone can bodies touch, or touched be. 

The garments hung on shores where billows break 
Grow damp ; spread in the sun soon dry again ; 
Yet can we not perceive the water come, 
Nor see it flee by heat, since 'tis dispersed 
In parts too small for any eye to see. 

Time wastes by use the ring upon our hand ; 
The falling drop the stone ; the iron share 
Grows thin by stealth in fields where furrows turn; 
The rock-paved streets are worn by passing feet ; 
And at our city gates the images 
Of gods in brass show right hands fined away, 
By reverent touches of the passers-by. 
We see them lessened as thus worn away, 
But what from them in time defined departs 
Invidious Nature hides from every eye. 
And what she adds by daily growth to things 
No sharpness of the vision can detect, 
Or diminutions by a slow decay ; 
As plain to see, since caverns deeply worn, 
Where rocks impend o'er the corroding sea, 
Show not the gnawing of each breaking wave : 



48 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

For Nature acts on atoms hid from sight, 
In secret working, but results reveals. 

Nor yet are things shut in on every side, 
By matter hemmed. A Void exists in things — 
A truth to know of import great to guard 
From wandering doubts trust in my words to give. 
Space then exists, impalpable and void ; 
For did there not, there could no motion be ; 
Besetting matter would environ round 
All things compact, opposing all advance, 
And nought could yield for motion to begin. 
But on all sides we varied motions see 
Of varied things ; but they without a Void 
Would not alone lack motion, but they could 
Never have been by any means begot, 
Since matter hemmed, confined, condensed, all would 
Have dwelt forever in eternal rest. 
However solid bodies may appear, 
Void spaces they contain ; since water drips 
In caves and grots, and drops ooze out from rocks, 
And all around with trickling moisture weeps. 

The food of animals, by secretive powers, 
Flows though the limbs and builds the body up ; 
The sap of plants, through secret veins and pores, 
From lowest root to topmost bough diffused, 
Unfolds in blossoms and fair fruit displays. 
Sound traverses closed doors and solid walls, 



Book I. A9 

While stiffening cold strikes piercing through the limbs. 
But were no void how could such bodies pass ? 
You needs must see it were impossible. 

Why do some things excel in weight others 
Of greater size ? If equal matter be 
In globe of wool and lead, why equal not 
In what to matter most essential is — 
Weight ? Downward pressing to the void unknown, 
The greater lighter than the less, thus proves 
Existence of a void, the heavier still 
Embracing less than light of spaces void. 
Sure then exists, mingled in things, what we 
Seek with sagacious mind and call a Void. 

Now lest what some may feign divert your mind 
From truth, I must anticipating meet 
Objections specious and adroitly urged. 
The waters yield, they say, to efforts of 
The scaly fish, since its advance leaves space 
Behind, whither the yielding waters flow. 
Thus things can move by reasoning false deceived, 
By mutual change of place without a void. 
But how can the scaly brood begin advance, 
Unless the waters yield them space, or how 
They yield, when these are powerless to advance ? 
All things must thus lack motion, or we must 
Admit a void as mingled up in things 
That may allow of motion to begin. 
4 



$o Titus Lucretius Carus. 

^When bodies joined on sudden leap apart, 

Circumfluous air must fill vacated space ; 

But howe'er swift it rush in circling streams, 

Part after part successively must gain, 

Nor can on instant occupy the whole ; 

Feign not a condensation of the air, 

Conclusions to escape, for that would make 

A void where none, fill one that was before. 

Not under such conditions could the air 

Condense, within itself retire, without 

A previous void. Objections harping you 

May wear the time; but, bound in reasoning's chain, 

You must confess a void exists in things. 

Why heap up argument to confirm my words? 
These slight suggestions to sagacious mind 
May well suffice. The rest you can divine. 
As the hill-roving dog tracks out the prey, 
When, keen of scent the sure trail once he's ta'en, 
Thus inference you can draw, her lair invade, 
And drag the truth reluctant to the light. 

And now should weariness or sloth withdraw 
Your mind, O Memmius, from the truth, 
Take here my pledge from overflowing soul, 
Such copious draughts, from copious fountains drawn, 
My tongue shall drop in accents sweet the while ; 
I fear lest age slow creeping on invade 
My limbs and mine the seat of life, long ere 



Book I. 51 

The sum of knowledge from one seed of truth 
Can be in all its amplitude disclosed. 

Now to resume, clothing in verse my theme : 
All nature of two essences consists : 
Matter and Void. The first by sense is proved ; 
Without which firm foundation of belief 
No standard there could be in hidden things, 
To which referring we could truth confirm. 
While motion proves existence of a void. 
Distinct from matter and distinct from void, 
An essence third to these is nowhere found. 
Imagine what you will, if sensible to touch, 
It must dimensions have, or small or great, 
And swell the number of corporeal things. 
Insensible to touch, dimensionless, 
That no resistance lets for things to pass, 
Can be but sheer vacuity and void. 

Again, whatever acts, or passively exists 
As acted on, must in some place exist, 
To act or suffer, and must body be; 
What place affords is void ; there's naught besides 
That sense can apprehend or thought conceive. 
All else are properties or accidents. 
Of these two self-subsisting substances, — 
Essential properties we call all those 
Which to their subjects so inhere that they 
Can severed only by destruction be- — 



52 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

As weight in stones and ardent heat in fire, — 
Since losing these their subjects cease to be ; 
While those whose presence or departure leaves 
Unharmed their subjects, accidents we call — 
As poverty or wealth, freedom or servitude. 

Time in itself exists not ; but the sense 
Of time comes from what's done in time ; events, 
Revealing thus the present, future, past. 
But time, as self-existent and removed 
From things in motion, all in fixed rest, 
Cannot be apprehended or conceived. 

What poets tell of Helen's ravishment, 
The Grecian gathering and the fall of Troy, 
Regard them not as self-subsisting things ; 
Since all the generations those events befel 
Irrevocable time hath swept away ; 
And what succeeding to that region came, 
What differing fortune Teucer's sons befel, 
Are rightly termed events of it or them ; 
For were there not some substance sure of things, 
Were there no space, or place for them to act, 
The flame of love by Helen's form inspired, 
Soft gliding to the Phrygian Paris' breast, 
Had never lighted up that war renowned, 
Nor wooden horse, with its portentous birth 
Of armed Greeks had never sacked Troy. 
Thus you may see that acted things are not 



Book L 53 

Like Matter, self-existent, or the Void 
Of founded natures ; but they rather well 
Are called events of matter and of void. 

Bodies in part are first beginnings, then ; 
In part they are by union formed of these. 
These seeds, first principles, no force can quench, 
Triumphant ever in solidity, 
Though difficult of credence that in things 
Aught solid there can be; when oft we see 
Through closed barriers sounds and lightnings pass, 
See rigid steel glow and grow soft in fire, 
The molten rocks leap up with fervid flame, 
The flinty bronze flow liquid, tamed by heat ; 
Cold permeate the cup silver or gold 
With water filled, held brimming in the hand, 
And dew-like moisture gather on without. 
Thus naught in Nature solid seems to be. 

But since right reason and the truth of things 
Compel belief, attend while I unfold 
That there are things solid, etern, and which 
Are seeds of things, since from them all proceeds. 

First, since a two-fold Nature's found to be 
Of two dissimilar things — Matter and Void, 
Each self-existent, in itself distinct, 
Each by its nature limit must the other. 
Where empty space exists, called here the Void, 



54 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

No Matter is ; where Matter is, no Void. 

Nor can created things contain a void, 

Save by the favor of embracing walls 

Of matter that must needs then solid be, 

And be eternal when all else dissolves. 

Again, were there no void, the universe 

Would solid be. Were there no bodies fixed 

To hold their own in space, all would be void. 

Thus vacant space and bodies alternate, 

And mark the Void from Full, since there exists 

No perfect fulness, and no perfect void. 

These bodies, too, no outside blows can reach, 

No force invade ; can neither yield in parts, 

Nor minished be ; not penetrable are 

By moisture, heat, or cold, by whose assaults 

Things are destroyed ; since still in them 

A void is found, while in these bodies none. 

The more things have of void more quick they yield 
Assailed ; but if, as taught, first bodies are 
Of solid texture, not admitting void, 
They then perforce must needs eternal be. 

Were matter not eternal, long ere this 
Annihilation would have swallowed up 
All things created ; and the things we see 
Must have from nothingness to being sprung. 
But since, as proved, nothing from nothing comes, 
And naught to naught returns, primordials, strong 



Book I. 55 

In their simplicity, eternal are, 

And at their final hour things but dissolve, 

Materials to afford for recreating things ; 

Not else could Nature through all time endure. 

Again, had not Nature certain limits fixed 
To dissolution, elements themselves 
Would so through ages past have waned away, 
That naught from them could have attained its prime, 
Since all is sooner wasted than restored ; 
The long drear night of time through ages past 
Must with corroding tooth have all consumed. 
But since we see all things renewed in their 
Appointed time, with fixed laws for all 
By birth and growth to reach their flowery prime, 
Bounds to destruction must be surely fixed. 

Though seeds, moreover, solid must be deemed, 
Things by their union formed may well be soft — 
As water, air, vapor, and plastic clay, 
Since they contain a void ; but what could give 
To flinty rocks, were atoms soft, their strength, 
Since Nature then would firm foundation lack ? 

Moreo'er, were there no limits set to breaking 
things, 

What forms them now must have through time en- 
dured, 

By dangers unassailed ; but ill it sorts 



$6 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

To think, were all with fragile natures framed, 

They could till now unharmed have endured 

Through ages, vexed with unnumbered shocks. 

But since appointed bounds of life and growth, 

Each in its kind, have been assigned to things ; 

And by the laws of Nature 'tis decreed 

What each can do, and what again cannot ; 

Nor does aught change, but constant all remains — 

As various birds, each in their order, show 

The marks and colors propriate to their kinds, 

Most surely immutable must atoms be. 

For could they change or vanquished be by aught, 

Uncertain it would be what could arise — 

What not, what limits there could be for all. 

Not thus through endless ages of revolving time 

Could various races reproduce their kind, 

The nature, instincts, habits of their sires. 

Moreo'er, since there's an extreme part of that 
Which is already least sight can perceive, 
That extreme part itself can have no parts, 
Minutest part, itself inseparable, 
Of atoms, elements, from which things are formed. 
Apart from them they no existence have, 
But cleave to that from which they can't be torn. 
For in themselves they nothing are to sense ; 
To mind, parts ultimate of elements. 
Primordials, then, solid and single are, 
Compacted of those close-cohering parts, 



Book I. 57 

Massed out of them, not by their union formed, 
But strong in everlasting singleness. 
Nature, reserving these as seeds of things, 
Permits in them no minish or decay ; 
They can't be fewer, and they can't be less. 

For were there not somewhere true minima, 
Least things were then of infinite parts composed, 
To every part a half, so without end. 
What difference, then, between the small and great ! 
The universal whole and its minutest part 
Would equal be — both infinite alike. 
But since 'gainst this right reason militates, 
Nor can the mind conceive, perforce confess 
There must be things that are not dowered with parts, 
True minima ; and since there are, first seeds, 
Since built of them, are solid and etern. 

Again, were Nature wont to break up things 
To minima, materials she would lack 
Them to rebuild by her creative powers. 
For how could ultimates, unendowed with parts, 
The motions, weights, affinities possess, 
To generative matter due for forming things. 

Hence, those who Fire the primal matter deem 
Make fire alone constituent of things, 
Wide wander from the truth — of whom 
Heraclitus is chief, and leads the van. 



58 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Renowned, because obscure ; by fools esteemed — 

Not by Greek sages who what's true require — 

For shallow wits admire what comes concealed 

In misty verbiage, and in terms obscure ; 

Deeming that truth that deftly takes the ear, 

With sonorous phrase and glittering tinsel decked. 

Were all from fire create, whence then could come 

The infinite variety of things ? 

It little can avail to rarefy 

Or to condense the fiery element. 

The parts the nature of the whole must have, 

Fiercer condensed, more languid when diffused, 

Nor other change can know ; how then could rise 

All Nature's rich variety from this ? 

And did they in their scheme admit a void 

They might conceive their fire condensed or rare ; 

But since this suits but ill their theory, 

They mumble and decline a void to own. 

Fearing the difficult, they thus miss the true, 

Perceiving not that all without a void 

Condensed would one sole body constitute, 

Nor from it e'er could emanations flow, 

As now the radiant sun far-darting sends 

Its light and heat and radiance from afar. 

And if, perchance, they think that fire can change 

Its nature when combined in forming things, 

E'en fire they would annihilate, and make 

Sheer nothingness the origin of things. 

For what by change transcends appointed bounds 



Book I. 59 

Must by the change annihilated sink ; 
For something must inviolate remain, 
Lest all in utter nothingness be whelmed, 
All re-arise and grow from nothingness. 

But since there are undoubted elements 
Which give to nature uniformity, 
Whose presence, absence, or arrangement new 
Can change all things, yet be themselves unchanged, 
'Tis sure these elements cannot be of fire ; 
For what imports to add or to detract 
From that, or change the order of its parts, 
Since fire it is, and fire what it creates. 

The truth is here : there certain bodies are 
Whose concourse, motion, combination, form, 
Can fire create or change, yet are not like 
To fire, or aught that can affect the touch, 
Or to the sense appreciable be. 

To say, moreover, everything is fire, 
That naught exists but that through Nature's realm, 
Heaps in full measure the absurd and wild, 
Makes sense to war with sense, and undermines 
All confidence in that by which alone 
We know that fire itself exists — belief 
Yielding to sense as proving fire, and yet 
Refusing it as proof of other things, 
Though all as clearly shown — what then is this 



60 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

But height of folly and of wild delire? 
To what shall we appeal, where turn to find 
A surer test than sense of true and false ? 
Why rather all denying leave but fire, 
Than fire denying leave all other things ? 
An equal madness each alternative. 

Hence those who Fire sole substance make of things, 
Or deem the Air the sole begetting source, 
Or those who hold that all's from Water formed, 
Or Earth creates and turns through everything, 
Needs must we deem to wander from the truth ; 
And those who feign a double element, 
Uniting fire to air, to water earth, 
Or seek in all the four the source of things — 
Of whom the sage Empedocles is chief, 
Born in the Trinacrian isle, whose rugged shore 
The Ionian sea wets with its sea-green foam. 
Here waste Charybdis is ; dread Scylla here 
With two-fold terrors frights the mariner ; 
Here murmuring ^Etna, with a noise of flames, 
Threatens anew his anger to awake, 
And vomit from his jaws the bursting fires, 
Bearing anew their gleaming to the skies. 
This far-famed isle, by Nature thus endowed, 
With much pf great, much wonderful and rare; 
Though rich in wealth, with richer wealth of men, 
Has than this sage no glory more renowned, 
More sacred, or more wonderful and dear. 



Book I. 6\ 

Whose verse divine illustrious truth proclaims, 

That scarce he seems sprung from a mortal mould 

But he, and those before inferior named, 

Though much revealing of a high import — 

Who from their hearts' pure shrine responses gave 

More holy, more by reason sanctified, 

Than what the Pythian from the tripod spoke, 

With laurel crowned, at the dark Delphic shrine — 

Though great, they greatly fell, with ruin great, 

Admitting motion but denying void — 

Things soft and rare, but no vacuity — 

And further stumbles their philosophy, 

That they no limit to division put, 

No pause to ruin, since no minima in things — 

When well we see there is an extreme point 

To things the least to sense perceptible ; 

From whence infer that what we can't perceive 

Has extreme points — true minima, 

That end division and the ruin stop. 

And, farther wandering, they betray the truth 
In feigning soft the seeds of things, and hence 
Destructible ; from whence would follow that 
To nothing all might turn, from nothing spring — 
Both far from truth, as I before have shown — 
Besides, such elements, diverse in their kinds, 
And hostile each to each, perish when joined, 
Or fly encounter, as at tempests' rise 
Water and wind and lightning are dispersed. 



62 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Again, if from such four alone were formed 
All things, and into them returned, why call 
The former, not the latter, seeds, since each 
Is formed from each by mutual interchange? 
Should you, perchance, suppose that fire with earth, 
In coalescing, or with water air, 
Change not their natures as they coalesce, 
Nothing from them could e'er created rise, 
Or living things, or things inanimate ; 
Since in all varied combinations each 
Would its own nature show, and fire appear 
Mingled with earth, water replete with air. 
But seeds creative, meet for forming things, 
Must with a veiled nature be endowed, 
Lest properties discordant should appear, 
And overshadow those appropriate 
To things from them compounded and create. 

Moreo'er, they seek in heaven and its fires 
The primal cause — this fire converts to air, 
Air genders water, and the water earths ; 
Then backward all returns, to water earths, 
Water to air, and air to primal fire — 
But true primordials no such change can know, 
Since something must immutable remain, 
Lest all sink sheer in utter nothingness. 
For what by change transcends appointed bounds 
Entails destruction on what was before, 
So true it is, as I before have shown, 



Book L 63 

The round of change pursuing, we must come 

To things that cannot change, or all's destroyed — 

Rather then constitute the seeds endowed 

With natures such, now to form fire, and now, 

By slight additions or subtractions, or 

By change of order or of motion, make 

The aerial air, water, or earth, since all, 

By slightest change can changed be to all. 

But manifest, you'll say, all springs from earth, 

Is fed, and rises in the light of heaven ; 

For did not warmth and genial seasons come, 

And sun and showers their kindly influence lend, 

Nor fruit, nor shrub, nor animals could grow ; 

And did not food our bodies recuperate, 

Life would depart from every nerve and limb ; 

For doubtless we replenished are and fed, 

As is all else alike, from fitting stores. 

In truth, since seeds of things in all are mixed, 

And Nature's various forms are various fed, 

Much it imports how seeds compounded are, 

With what affinities and powers endowed, 

Since the same elements constitute the air, 

The sun, the earth, and animals, and plants, 

And other things by unions various — 

As in our verse we many letters see, 

Common to many words, although the words 

Differ in sense and sound — so much is wrought 

By ordered changes of constituent parts. 

But elements that true primodials are 



64 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Much more can many combinations take, 
Productive of the varied world of things. 

(And now the scheme of Anaxagoras 
We sound — Homceomeria called by Greeks — 
And though our scantier tongue no name supplies, 
Its founding principle we can well unfold : 
That bodies all are formed from bodies like ; 
Bones from minutest bones, and nerves from nerves ; 
Gold from minutest particles of gold, 
And earths from earths minute ; water and fire 
Formed too from their moleculars ; and all 
The rest from unions of the like with like. 
But to division they no limits set, 
Nor own a void in things — erring in both. 
And, further, they their elements conceive 
Too weak and fragile when they them endow 
With natures like created things, exposed 
Like them to fate, and subject to decay. 
What could endure — all enmities outbrave — 
What 'scape destruction placed in jaws of death ? 
Could water, fire, or air, or blood, or bones ? 
Neither, I ween, were they founded in truth, 
With mortal natures like the things we see 
Slip daily out of life, crushed with a breath. 
But now, that things can't fall to nothing back, 
From nothing grow, established truths attest. 
Again, since food by nurturing buildeth up 

Our living bodies, bones and flesh must be 



Book I. 65 

Of diverse, hostile elements composed — 

Or food must some strange mingled nature have, 

Of veins, and nerves, and bones, and gouts of blood , 

Or yet again, if all that springs from earth 

Existed in the earth, the earth must be 

Composed of matters foreign to itself. 

If ashes, smoke, and flame lie hid in wood, 

What hostile elements in its rind encamp ! 

Thin subterfuge is left them to conceal 
The weak foundations of their theory ; 
They feign all things mingled lie hid in things, 
The one alone apparent of which most 
Is mingled, dominating thus the rest. 
Unsound hypothesis and vain ; for then, 
When grain is by the millstone crushed, 
We might expect to see the trace of blood, 
Or other substance that supports our frame ; 
See cropped herbage udder-like distil 
Sweet drops of milk, and pulverized earth display 
The secret germs of plants, and fruits, and flowers ; 
See wood heat, fostering show ashes and smoke, 
And latent fire deep lurking in its veins. 
'Tis manifest that naught like this can be ; 
Hence we may know things are not mixed in things, 
But common elements in a thousand ways 
Are hid and mingled in their varied forms. 

But oft you'll say on lofty mountain heights 
5 



66 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

The neighbor top of trees swayed by the winds 
Are creaking rubbed, till by attrition they 
Burst into flower of flame ; not that the fire 
Dwells in the wood, but rather seeds of heat, 
By friction forced to flow, together run, 
And bursting barriers fire the leafy tops. 
For sure, if latent lay the flames in wood, 
Not long could they be hid, but, bursting forth, 
Would ravage forests, burning every shrub. 

Hence you may see, as we just now have said, 
What import 'tis how atoms are conceived, 
And what impulses they can give or take, 
Since fire by slightest change can spring from wood, 
As words "firs" "fire" by change of letters change 

In fine, if you suppose that all things seen 
Can only be built up and founded on 
Things like themselves, with properties endowed, 
The very elements you would thus impair, 
And subject make to laughter and to tears. 

And now, the truth more clearly spoken, hear ! 
Nor deem I, not deceived, the theme obscure, 
But love of praise, keen, emulative, hath 
With its inspiring thyrsus smote my breast, 
Instinct with the Muse's love ; with ardent soul, 
I traverse fields untrod, and win my way 
Through pathless regions of the Muse's realm. 



Book I. 67 

Oh, dear delight to dip in virgin founts ! 

First comer, thence large draughts to take ! oh joy 

To pluck new flowers, and weave for them a crown 

That never yet hath decked a poet's brow ! 

In that I treat a lofty theme, devote 

From Superstition's chain the soul to free, 

O'er things obscure to pour the lucid song, 

And deck them with the charms of poesy. 

Thus wisely doing as the nurse adroit 

Or skilled physician, when they seek to give 

To children sick black absynth's bitter draught, 

Touch at the edge the circle of the cup 

With honeyed sweets, that, flattering the lips, 

The thoughtless age may drink the bitter draught ; 

Thus caught, deceived, uncaptured be by death. 

Thus I, in that my theme to many seems, 

Who know it not, ungracious and severe, 

Well seek, lest they my proffered guidance shun, 

With studious zeal my reasoning to enfold 

In the sweet accents of the Muse's voice, 

And clothing things obscure in garb of song, 

With pleasing art to win attentive ears, 

To mark my words, till they may clearly see 

How formed and shaped the frame of Nature is. 

Now, since I've taught how solid seeds of things 
Unconquered float triumphant over time, 
I now of their infinity must treat : 
Whether their sum owns limits — and of Space, 



68 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Whether its void, vast womb is finite, or extends 

Through the immense — profound beyond profound. 

Know the Great Whole, then, all unbounded is, 

For that which bounds must be itself a part 

Of the Great Whole which it pretends to bound. 

Where will you find, then, limitary shore ? 

It matters not in what far region you 

Set up imagined bounds ; the Infinite 

Will still remain, wide stretched your bourne beyond. 

Should any say that space is limited, 
Let him, then, standing on the fartherest shore, 
An arrow launch to glide where forced to go. 
Which will you choose ? glides it right, or stops, 
Encountering obstacle ? — of either, one, 
And either will escape preclude, and force 
Acknowledgment the Whole is infinite. 
For should a something bar its onward course, 
That something sure an extreme part must have, 
And bounds to its extreme ; no limit found — 
Or bears it on unchecked ? then I the shaft 
Pursue — confessed, no bounds revealed — and thus 
The faculty of further flight forbids 
Escape, since into regions infinite, 
Beyond beyond, thought may pursue the flight, 
And find no stop, no limitary goal, 
Still in the centre wheresoe'er it goes, 
With equal space before it as behind. 



Book L 69 

The visible world displays things bounding things ; 
Air girds the hills, the mountains bound the air, 
Land limits sea, the sea encircles land, 
But for the Whole there's naught outside to gird. 

Again, if Space, whose wide-spread bosom holds 
Nature's Great Whole, were hemmed by fixed bounds, 
The sum of Matter would long since have sunk 
To some dark lowest seat ; nor could things seen 
Have risen ere beneath the cope of heaven, 
Or heaven itself spread out its arch of stars ; 
But Matter, sinking through all time, one mass, 
Inert and dead, would have long since become. 
But now no pause to elements is given, 
Since there's no lowest seat where they may rest; 
But, by unending motion throughout time, 
They from all sides, from out the Infinite 
Summoned, are quickened for creation's work. 
Space then exists unlimited, profound. 
No river, gliding infinite through time, 
Can the long way accomplish, but as much 
Will stretch before as beyond it lies. 

Moreover, Nature's self has set the law, 
That sum of things should be illimitable ; 
Since space bounds body — body limits space, 
They alternating infinite make the Whole. 
Were one alone stretched to infinitude, 



70 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

'Twould its coeternal brother element 
Engulf and swallow in its amplitude ; 
Nor could great Nature's works, nor sea nor earth, 
The glittering temples of the heavens on high, 
Nor gods nor men, an instant term endure. 
The stores of matter, from assemblage torn, 
Dissolved would be in the vast womb of space — 
Dissolved and lost, or rather, wide dispersed, 
Could ne'er have joined to form created things. 

Sure not by design, or a prescient cause, 
Atoms took order and their movements planned ; 
But wrought to many a change, by many a blow 
Tormented through infinity of time, 
All possible assemblages essayed, 
At length they fell on those that could endure ; 
And thus creation's sum, our universe, arose ; 
Fit movements once begun, and well maintained 
Through many a cycle of revolving years, 
Made rivers large with their abounding flow 
Plenish the sea ; Earth, fostered by the sun, 
Renew her fruits nutritious, and supply 
Food for the tribes that hang upon her breast, 
And fed by Ether live the gliding fires — 
Which ne'er could be, were no provided store 
Matter exhaustless to renew the lost — 
Deprived of food, as living bodies waste, 
So all would be dissolved, should matter once 



Book L 71 

Diverted, fail to furnish due supply. 
Nor could external impacts long preserve 
Compacted things ; thick falling they may lie 
Upon the atoms, and delay their flight 
Till others come to keep the complement; 
But intermitting they must time afford 
For elements to 'scape material bonds, 
Leaving them free to float in empty space, 
Whence more must come, vacated space to fill. 
Hence, to maintain unending impulses, 
Exacts a store of atoms infinite. 

And here, my Memmius, guard against belief 
Of what some say, "that to the centre tend 
All things, and thus the world can stand 
Without external impulses and shocks ; 
That what's below can't part from what's above, 
Since all struggle and bear to some fixed central 

point." 
But how believe that anything can stand, 
Self-balanced on itself — that weight below 
Strives upward, tending with resilient power, 
And thus finds rest back pressing on the earth ; 
As the smooth lake shows an inverted world 
Of woods and hills based on the world above- 
By the same fancy living hosts below 
Frequent inverted lands, and can no more 
Fall thence, down borne to subterranean vault, 



72 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Than what we see firm planted on the earth 
Can rise spontaneous to the fields of air ; 
That they with us the world divide, and when 
They see the sun, the stars of night we see ; 
That sky and seasons alternating come 
To them and us, and equal days and nights 
Above, below, in due succession reign. 

All these and like vain fancies fitly flow 
From a wrong principle perversely held. 
To Infinite there can no centre be, 
Or if a centre, say why rather there 
Should matter tend to and take up its rest, 
Than to some other region far remote ? 
Since empty space must yield an equal way 
To moving things through centre as through all ; 
Nor is there place where bodies coming can, 
Of weight divested, station take in space ; 
Nor can the void give stopping place to aught, 
But must by nature yield alike to all ; 
How, struck with longing for the centre, then, 
Could frame of things in harmony be held ? 

Besides, they feign not everything thus to 
The centre tends — fluids and earths alone — 
The ocean billows and the streams from hills 
Down rushing, and whate'er is formed terrene ; 
But hold opposing this that the thin air 



Book I. 73 

And heat far-radiant from the centre flows ; 
And thus the ether glitters with its fires. 
The sun, wide feeding through cerulean plains, 
Its lustrous nature draws — as living things 
Forsooth from earth are fed — since light and heat 
From centre streaming there collect their rays ; 
As trees would not grow leafy at their tops, 
Did not from earth earth give them nurture due. 

Thus they in devious error wide diversely stray, 
And frame throughout repugnant theories, 
Founded on false assumptions rashly held — 
Now, since I've taught that Space is infinite, 
On all sides spread in its immensity, 
Needs also then that Matter infinite 
Must be supplied, lest, like to winged flames, 
The pillars of the world should take their flight 
Dissolved through void, and all the universe 
Quick follow them in equal ruin whelmed — 
Lest pathway spread for thunder's rattling car 
Should crumble up, and earth beneath our feet 
Sudden wide gape, all things dissolved, till now 
The mingled ruins of the earth and sky 
Together sink, in the waste void engulfed — 
That in an instant nothing would be left 
But space and atoms in chaotic mass. 
Let one part fail all will to ruin rush ; 
That failing part will be the jaws of death. 



74 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

These truths received, light labor will remain, 
For truth on truth a mutual light will shed ; 
No longer shall thick night your path invest ; 
Truth holds a lantern for the search of Truth, 
And you shall bow at Nature's inner shrine. 



END OF BOOK I. 



BOOK II. 



OF ATOMS. 

Opening. — Praise of Philosophy. — How Atoms produce All Things. — 
Declination of Atoms. — Freedom of the Will. — Atoms in ceaseless 
Motion. — The Universe at Rest. — Qualities of Things arise from 
Form of Atoms. — Forms of Atoms limited. — Number of each Form 
Infinite. — Elements wage Eternal War. — Production and Destruc- 
tion alternately prevail. — Personification of the Great Mother. — 
Nature of the Gods. — Atoms void of all Sensible Qualities. — Sen- 
sation springs from the Insensate. — How Life is developed. — All 
springs from a Celestial Source. — Space Infinite. — Innumerable 
Worlds. — Creation. — Growth of Things and Decay. — The Earth 
worn out. — Close. 



BOOK II 



'Tis sweet from land, when seas are raging wild, 
To see another struggling on the deep ; 
Not that 'tis sweet his torment to behold, 
But sweet to look on ills, ourselves secure ; 
'Tis sweet to see the opposing fronts of war 
Arrayed in fields, their dangers all unshared; 
But sweeter far to mount to learning's height, 
Temples serene of science wisdom reared — 
(The palaces of thought — safe occupants, 
Thence to look down on mortals, wandering wide, 
Seeking with devious steps the path of life ; 
See strife of intellect, the pride of birth, 
With direful labor struggling day and night 
To climb to height of power and mastery gain. 

Oh, miserable thoughts of men ! oh, blinded souls ! 
In what thick darkness, in what perils dire, 
You drag the chain of life whate'er it be ! 
And see you not how little Nature craves 
For our corporeal wants ? no more than this : 
The body free from pain, soul free to enjoy 
A sense of bliss without a fear or care. 



yS Titus Lucretius Carus. 

By Nature's bounteous gift, whate'er affords 

Relief from pain spreads pleasure in its stead, 

Nor greater pleasure does she e'er require. 

Though in your halls no golden statues bear 

In their right hands rare gilded lamps aloft, 

To shed on nightly feasts light like the day ; — 

Though through your house no burnished silver shines, 

No golden lustre gleams, no stringed lute, 

No harp through arched and gilded halls resound ; 

Yet not the less in social groups reclined 

Upon the verdant grass, near whispering streams, 

Joys all unbought your senses overspread, 

When summer tide prevails, or when the spring 

The Earth enamels with resplendent flowers ! 

Nor will the raging fever leave the limbs 

The sooner lying on embroidered couch 

Than low reclined upon pallet rude ! 

Wherefore, since wealth avails the body naught, 
Nor birth, nor glories of the kingly sway, 
They to the soul still less advantage bring ; 
If not, forsooth, by legions in the field, 
Your banners bearing, ranged in pomp of war — 
If not by fleets, proud messengers wide spread, 
The dread inspiring Superstition's train 
And ghastly fears of death dispelled can be — 
If 'tis not thus your soul assoiled can be, 
And bosom purged of the perilous stuff ; 
If e'en the thought a mockery seems — and sooth, 



Book II 79 

The fears of men, and their corroding cares, 
Regard not pomp of war, nor clash of arms; 
But rudely king and conquerors assail, 
Small reverence showing for the gleam of gold, 
Or splendors of the purple robe — how doubt 
Reason alone has this prerogative, 
Since now life's but a struggle in the dark ! 
For e'en as children tremble in the dark, 
And all things fear, we tremble in light, 
And blindly fear things no more worthy fear 
Than what affrightens children iu the dark, 
Filling the future with vain phantoms dread L 
These terrors, and this blindness of the soul, 
Not by the sun's bright rays, arrows of day, 
Can be dispelled ; rather by reasoning sound, 
Revealing Nature's aspect and her laws. 

And now, to tell how moving, primal seeds 
Builds up all things, and them built up, dissolves ; 
How innate motion gives to them the power 
To permeate the void and float in space, — 
My verse proceeds ; lend thou attentive ears ! 
For Matter is not bound by fixed links ; 
We see all things decay, and, as it were, 
Float down the stream of time; to all, in turn, 
Old age creeps on with visible advance ; 
Decay of some leaves others free to grow, 
And thus the sum of things rests unimpaired ; 
While these wax old, those flourish in their prime, 



80 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

But rest not there, but glide adown the tide. 
Thus the Great Whole is ceaselessly renewed, 
For mortals live by mutual interchange. — 
Some wax, some wane ; thus generations change, 
And, like to runners in the Grecian game, 
Bear for brief time, and then to others pass, 
The lamp of life their hands are forced to yield. 

But if you think that elements of things, 
Stopping, can cease new motions to produce ; 
Widely you would from truth of reason stray. 
Since all float in a void, they all must move 
By impact, or by weight ; thus wrought upon, 
Encountering, they sudden start athwart. 
Nor strange such resilience, since solid they, 
And nothing rearward lets their impetus. — 
The better to conceive how matter's tossed, — 
Know the Great Whole no lowest seat can know 
No bounds admit, since equal space extends, 
Vast, limitless, above, below, around. 
No wonder, then, no place of rest is found 
To primal bodies through the vast profound, 
And, finding none, they cease not ceaseless rounds. 
Part, forced together, wide asunder leap ; 
From closer blow part, grappling with their kind, 
In close affinities unite and form 
Bodies of various figure — varied forms diverse. 
Thus the foundations of the rocks were laid, 
The unyielding strength of iron, and the like ; 



Book IL 8 1 

While some resilient, parting more and more, 

Diffuse form, light, and the ethereal air. 

And some there are wide wandering in space, 

That all affinities reject, nor can unite 

With any body in a common bond — 

That thus they comport as I have described. 

Fit image see, where'er a beam of light, 

Through chink or crevice, stream's in darkened room ; 

A thousand bodies, in a thousand ways, 

Incessant conflict wage, sole or in groups, 

Nor cease in unions and disunions vexed. 

Thus smallest things example give of great, 

And from their conflict you may well conceive 

What elemental strife torments the Void. 

Further befits you, note that the wild play 

And ceaseless dance of motes in beam of light 

Imply veiled motions of the elements. 

You see them dashed diverse by secret blows, 

Down, up, around, athwart; know all is due 

To secret impulses that atoms give. 

Prime elements inherent motions have ; 

Bodies minute, as nearest elements, 

Motions receive from impulses invisible ; 

From them receive, and give to higher forms. 

Thus mounts it up from atoms, and becomes 

Apparent unto sense, although the shock, 

First origin, is in minuteness veiled. 

And now, with what mobility endowed, 
6 



82 Titus Lucretius Cants. 

These primal elements, thou may'st learn from this : 

Soon as Aurora streaks the east with light, 

Innumerable birds in pathless woods 

Enrich the ambient air with liquid notes. 

How suddenly the sun, arising then, 

With dazzling floods invests all things with light ! 

And yet the effluence and light serene 

The sun dispenses flow not in a void, 

But meet aerial waves that check their course. 

For light and heat not isolated are, 

But massed and intervolved, adhering close, 

Clogged and delayed, drag slowly their way through. 

But primal atoms, when they flow in void, 

Encountering nothing, single in their parts, 

Borne by one impulse to one certain goal, 

Must far exceed the light's rapidity, 

And than her rays far wider space transcend ; 

For infinite atoms, in a boundless void, 

By endless motions builds the frame of things. 

But deem not thou, for this, Intelligence 
Can wait on these primordial principles, 
And follow up to see how each comports — 
As some suppose, of Matter ignorant, 
And of her powers maintain Nature could not, 
Without the aid of gods, the seasons change, 
Reclothe the Earth with verdure, and reveal 
Order so tempered to the wants of men ; 
As pleasure, divine attendant, goes before, 



Book II S3 

And them by natural enticements leads, 

And joys of love, to propagate their kind, 

And suffers not their races to decay; 

Wherefore they feign the gods framed all for man — 

Erring and wide of truth — though hid from me 

What elements in their essences may be ; 

Yet this I dare affirm, from wandering heavens, 

And the mad course of human things below, 

Nature was not divinely formed for man, 

So full of imperfections and defects ; 

Which after argument shall more clear unfold. 

Now, as I think this is fit place, to show 
Nothing by innate power can upward rise — 
And let not flames that up exulting spring, 
Nor plants that rise 'gainst gravitative power, 
Your mind deceive, nor lead you to believe 
When flames leap to the roof, the rafters lick, 
They comport this without impelling power. 
For see you not, when laboring hard we strive 
Vast beams of wood to bury in the deep, 
The more we strive the more rejecting wave 
Sends leaping upward what we'd force below ? 
But not all this, I ween, should make us doubt 
That in a void, by weight, all bears below, 
Tending to fall ; thus flames alike would fall, 
If not borne upward by embracing air. 
For see you not how with a trail of light 
The gliding meteors streak the vault of heaven, 



84 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Go as impelled where'er pathway is found ? 
Unseated fall the stars ; the sun in heaven 
Darts heat on all, and sows the fields with light ; 
Lightnings fly thwart the lurid clouds abrupt ; 
The thunder-bolt falls frequent to the earth. 

And here this also we would have you know ; 
When atoms are down borne through the sheer void, 
In space uncertain, at times undefined, 
They swerve a little from an equal poise; 
So little only as you'd call a change 
Of inclination ; for, if not, did all 
Like drops of rain fall in right lines, there'd be 
No impulses, no elemental shocks, 
No generative motions or energic acts ; 
Nor thus could Nature anything create 
Think not the heavy would o'ertake the light, 
By falling sheer in swifter impulse borne, 
And thus creative shocks by impact spring. 
Bodies that fall through water or through air 
With varied motions fall, since fluid fails 
To cheek alike the heavy and the light, 
But to the heaviest quickest yields a way ; 
While in a void, where no resistance 's found, 
All equal move, though of unequal weight ; 
Nor can the heavy, falling on the light, 
Collisions cause self-acting to produce 
Generic motions by which Nature acts ; 
Wherefore, again, atoms from line direct 



Book II .85 

Must swerve ; but yet the least conceivable ; 
Lest we be found to feign motions oblique, 
'Gainst truth ; for bodies falling, it is plain, 
Fall not oblique ; but how affirm that they 
No declination have insensible to sight ? 

Again, if all motion in a chain were bound, 
If new from old in fixed order flowed, 
Cause linked to cause in an eternal round ; 
If atoms no concealed clinamen had 
Cause to create, and break the bond of fate, 
How could free will in animals exist ? 
How could I say the power be snatched from fate, 
That leads all now where pleasures prompt to go ? 
For motions are not bound in time and place ; 
The mind prevails. Will first beginning makes 
Of motion, that from thence wells through the frame. 
For see you not when, barriers loosed, forth bursts 
The impulsive courser, eager for the race, 
How lingers he behind his quick desire ? 
All forces of the frame must first conspire, 
Each nerve be strung to mate the eager mind; 
Since seat of motion is within the breast, 
Where Will resides, whose promptings limbs obey. 
Far different 'tis when we are forced to move 
By impulse from without against our will ; 
Though hurried headlong still the will resists, 
And, acting on our members, checks our course. 
For see you not, when some exterior force 



86 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

Acts on the body and compels to move, 
Still, in the breast there's something that resists ; 
That umpire sits, and rules our limbs, and makes 
Them now advance, and now reined in, retire ? 
Hence, in first principles we must confess 
There's something more than impulses and weight- 
As cause of motion, whence the power of will 
Proceeds in us, since nought from nothing comes. — 
Weight may resist to impulses extern ; 
But that the mind's volition is controlled 
By no necessity innate, that binds 
To suffer and to bear whate'er imposed, 
Is to clinamen due, insensible, undefined. 

The store of elements material, 
Admits no diminution, no increase, 
Was never more condensed, nor more diffused. — 
All that harmonious moving now exists 
Existed in the past, and will in time 
To come. All that in birth emerges is 
Created new, but with conditions old ; 
They rise and grow, and flourish for their time, 
As far as Nature's law to each allows, 
And naught exists to change the sum of things ; 
From the Great Whole no place exists apart, 
Aught to receive new influence whence can come 
New powers invade the universal whole. 

Nor wond'rous deem it that, though atoms move, 



Book II 87 

The sum of things in fixed quiet dwells, 

And knows no motion but of separate parts. 

Since nature of first elements is hid, 

Their motions too must be invisible, 

In sheer minuteness veiled; as motion oft 

Of visible things by distance is concealed — 

The fleecy flock, grazing on distant hills, 

Incessant move, and intermingling glide 

Where grass invites gemmed with the recent dew ; 

The full-fed lambs in playful gambols sport ; 

Yet all from distance viewed confused appears, 

Like a white cloud upon the verdant hill. 

So, when vast legions in the guise of war 

Fill all the plain, and horsemen prick about, 

At signal's sound in sudden onset move — 

A brightness glances to the fields of air, 

The region round gleams with the brazen arms, 

Earth groans beneath the sound of trampling feet, 

Loud clamor strikes the hills, the stricken hills 

The voices echo to the stars of heaven ; 

Yet all the turmoil, viewed from distant height, 

Seems but a brightness sleeping on the plain. 

Now learn how diverse primal atoms are, 
How varied they in figure and in form. 
Not but some few are like, but not all like ; — 
Nor wondrous 'tis they various are, so great 
Their multitude that sum nor limit knows. 
Of all the individuals that compose 



88 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

The human race, the sea's mute scaly brood, 

The forest tribes, the varied-plumed birds 

That haunt fair sunny banks, fountains, and groves, 

Or fitful fan the air in pathless woods, 

Take any one of any kind you will, 

Though like in kind they singly differ all. 

Not else could offspring their own mothers know ; 

Their mothers, them as yet we see they know, 

Not less than men know their own fellow men. 

As oft before the decorated shrines 

The victim calf young immolated falls, 

Forth breathing from its breast the warm life-blood, — 

The mother roams the lawns bereaved the while ; 

Well known what cloven foot-prints mark the mead, 

Scanning with eager looks each bush and brake, 

Her offspring lost to spy; oft standing still, 

Fills all the leafy grove with loud complaints, 

And then, transfixed with longing, seeks the empty 

stall ; 
Not tender willows nor grass fed with dew, 
Nor rivulets gliding level with their banks, 
Her soul can now delight, her care assuage ; 
No other firstling of the flock can please, 
Through the glad fields, her anxious thought divert, 
The one, her own, her bleeding heart requires. 

The tender kid with tremulous voice its dam, 
The frolic lamb its fleecy mother knows 
Amid the bleating flock ; by instinct led, 



Book II. 89 

Each to its own milk-giving fountain runs. 

And all corn-growing plants, though like in kind, 

Yet endless change diversifies their forms. 

How varied are the shells that blushing paint 

The ground where feeds the sea with gentle waves 

The thirsty sands upon the curved shore ! 

For a like reason elements of things, 

Since formed by Nature, not by model made, 

Must float about with forms dissimilar. 

Resolve you may from this why lightning's fires 
More penetrating are than fires of earth, 
Since formed of subtler parts, fitted to pass 
Minuter pores than fires of earth can pass. 
Light traverses the thin, transparent horn 
That yields no passage to the denser air ; 
The lively wine through filters freely flows, 
Where lingers long the grossly-formed oil. 
Why this, but that of larger atoms formed ; 
Or hooked and intervolved that will not part 
To traverse singly such pores minute. 

And further add, of differing elements ; 
The luscious honey and the grateful milk 
Soothe and delight the sense, while, all unlike, 
The nauseous wormwood and harsh centaury 
Torture the organ with their savor rude. 
Hence thou may'st learn that all delighting sense 
Are formed of round and polished elements, 



90 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

While all the bitter are of rough and sharp, 

And knit together with parts hooked and locked, 

That rend the organ in the passage rude. 

Thus all that flatter or offend the sense 

Are differenced in their elemental forms ; 

Unless you think the sound of grating saw 

Of the same airs composed as notes that flow 

Mellifluous from the lute divinely touched ; 

Or that like atoms to the nostrils come 

From the dead carcass festering in the gale, 

As when high altars incense exhale, 

Or breathes Cilician saffron from theatric scenes ; 

Or colors deem of the same rays composed, 

On which the eye feeds and delights to dwell, 

And all the dismal and abhorred sights 

Which pierce the organ and force tears to flow. 

Hence we infer all that delights the sense 

Is not without a certain smoothness formed 

Of elemental parts ; all that offends 

Some roughness of its atoms must conceal ; 

And some there are formed neither smooth nor sharp, 

But with projecting angles fitted more 

To rouse, but not offend the sense — such are 

The insipid fecula and lees of wine. 

How different is fire from piercing frost ! 
Yet both composed of atoms toothed and sharp, 
As proved by touch. Touch, O ye sacred powers- 
Touch is the organ whence all knowledge flows ; 



Book II 91 

Touch is the body's sense of things extern, 
And of sensations that deep spring within ; 
Whether delightsome, as in genial act, 
Or rude collision torturing from without ; 
How different, then, must forms of atoms be 
Which such sensation varied can produce ! 

Again, the dense, rugged, and hard are formed 
Of atoms hooked like branches deep entwined ; 
As chief is seen in adamantine rocks, 
Or the tough strength of iron or of brass, 
That grates beneath the hinges of our doors. 
Fluids, again, of bodies round and smooth 
Must be composed ; not held englobed, but free 
Headlong to glide down least declivity; 
While those that in an instant are dispersed, 
And flee away, as smoke, or clouds, or flame, 
If not of round and smooth, are yet unbound 
And uninvolved, since pores they penetrate, — 
Formed then of sharp, and not of atoms hooked. 
That what is fluid may yet bitter be, 
As is the briny sea, need not surprise ; 
For round and smooth may well with rough be mixed, 
And not retained with o'er tenacious hooks. 
And thus the atoms that embrine the sea 
May from its liquid elements be strained, 
The fluent waters, percolating earth, 
Rise sweet and freshened in the sandy trench, 
Its acrid salts involved and left behind. 



92 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

This truth established, I with it must join 
A kindred truth that draws its proof from this, — 
That seeds can vary but in finite forms ; 
If not, some would in size be infinite, 
For seeds can bear but little change of shape. 
Conceive them, if you will, of three least parts, 
Or more ; vary at will order of parts ; 
The bottom make the top, the right the left, 
You soon exhaust the forms within your power 
To make. What further mode of varying ? 
Part add to part ; to gain unnumbered forms 
You still must to your adding add, and make 
The infinitely small immensely great, 
Which, as I've shown, it is not, nor can be. 

Could atoms boast infinity of forms, 
Naught could be fixed, no measure things could 

know. 
The garments rich of oriental woof, 
The glowing purple of Thessalian dye, 
The golden brood of Juno's favorite bird, 
With Iris eyes in laughing beauty steeped, 
Would be despised, surpassed by newer tints. 
The scent of myrrh, the honey's luscious gust, 
The swan's melodious note, the strings divine 
Of Phoebus' lute, breathing celestial airs, 
Would sink in silence, and would be disdained 
For newer measures and diviner song, 
That would surpassing in succession rise 



Book II. 93 

To captivate the sense, the soul enthrall ;^ 

Or, backward borne, worse would succeed to worse, 

The eyes and ears to torture with offence * 

Beyond endurance as beyond conceit. 

Since not in nature thus, but all is held 

In fixed limits and without excess 

Of evil or of good, needs then confess 

That matter differs but in finite forms. 

From frost to fire, from fire to hoary frost, 

A path is traversed and remeasured back ; 

For cold and heat on extreme boundaries lie, 

While moderate warmth between completes the scale. 

For things are differenced by finite degrees, 

Marked on each side's extreme by points — by flames 

Molested here, and there by nipping frost. 

This proved, join with it kindred truth — 
Though limited the forms of atoms yet, 
The atoms of each form are limitless, 
Else limited were the universal Whole, 
Which 'tis not, as I've proved, and cannot be ; — 
Since, as my verse has shown, 'tis to the sum 
Of atoms infinite, and successive shocks 
Unintermitted joined — cause linked to cause 
Through time — great Nature owes her maintenance, 
And long procession of the course of things. — 
Though in the regions of the earth we hold 
Some animals be rarely seen, deem not 
Prolific Nature in them less fecund. 



94 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

In other lands, in regions far remote, 
Their numbers are replete though wanting here. 
Fit instance gives of quadrupeds the chief, 
The elephant huge that wields the lithe probos, 
Best substitute for hands, though here rare seen, 
In the far Indian clime so thick they swarm, 
Their serried ranks an ivory rampart form 
Impenetrable, round else defenceless walls. 

But grant that one sole animal exists 
Whose like is nowhere found throughout the world, — 
Without supply of matter infinite, 
How it created, or created reared ? 
Assume birthgiving seeds of some one thing 
Float in the universe in numbers limited, 
Where, by what power, or how could they unite, 
In such a sea of foreign matter lost ? 
They, as- I ween, without all power to join 
In forming things, scattered wide cast would lie, 
Like fragments floating on the vasty deep 
Of masts and yards, rudders and banks of oars, 
From ships by storms dispersed, that, swayed by 

winds, 
Borne on by waves, bear to all shores afar 
The warning signs for mortals not to trust 
The faithless sea, when, decked her mirrored face 
In calm, she beckons with fallacious smile. 
For should you finite make constituent seeds, 
The raging tide of chaos would disperse 



Book II. 95 

Them wide throughout the infinite womb of space ; 
That ne'er assembled could they join to form 
Created things, nor in their course delay 
To feed them, formed — but present Nature proves 
That things are formed and grow ; hence, of each 

kind 
The seeds are infinite that can all supply. 

Neither destructive powers for aye prevail 
To bury all things in eternal sleep, 
Nor can creative triumphing, unchecked, 
Preserve through endless time created things ; 
But, deadly opposites, to make or mar, 
They wage eternal war with balanc'd power. 
Here life prevails ; there death ; and intermixed 
With lamentation is the early cry 
Of new-born infant ushered to the light ; 
No night succeeds the day — no morn the night, 
That hears not sickly plaint of infant, mixed 
With wail of death, and black funereal cries 

Here careful note and deep engraven hold ; 
That naught is built of single elements, 
But all of varied seeds ; and all the more 
Things differ in their properties and powers, 
More varied must their component atoms be 
And chief, the Earth has elemental stores 
Whence springs, their coolness rolling, feed the sea 
With ceaseless flow ; and seeds whence fires are fed, 



g6 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

That parch her desert plains, adust and dry, 

Or frequent flame from out her rugged breast, 

As raging yEtna heaves with far-famed fires, — 

And primal seeds she has, with genial power 

To lift the foodful heads of corn for man, 

The waving foliage, and pastures glad, 

Food yielding to all beasts in woods and wilds ; 

Hence she is called great Mother of the gods — 

Mother of men, and all inferior tribes. 

The Grecian poets feigned her in a car, 

Seated aloft, by yoked lions drawn — 

Thus teaching that the earth is hung in space — 

Foundationless ; and at her chariot bars 

They yoked savage beasts, fitted to show 

That naught so savage, wild, and rude of soul 

As not to soften with a mother's care. 

They girt her head aloft with mural crown, 

Since cities' crowning heights are fed by her, — 

And in this guise the Deity arrayed 

Throughout the nations moves inspiring awe. 

The varied peoples after antique rites 

Call her the Idean Mother. Phrygian priests, 

Attend ! since in the Phrygian borders first 

Corn-harvests sprung, thence overspread the earth. 

For priests they give her eunuchs, feigned to show 

That those who stain a mother's sanctity, 

Or to their parents e'er ungrateful prove, 

Are to be deemed accursed ; no progeny 

Of theirs, baleful, shall e'er affront the light. 



Book II 97 

Thus moving, they loud drums and cymbals clash, 

While shrill-voiced pipes rouse and excite 

The mind with Phrygian measures ; arms they bear; 

And torturing instruments to fright the souls 

Of the ignoble, and the impious herd 

Whom gratitude cannot reach; that, roused by fear, 

They may the great Divinity confess. 

While thus she moves, through mighty cities borne, 

Diffusing blessings silently on men, 

They strew her way with gifts, silver and gold ; 

Upon her path rain roses, and with flowers 

The sacred Mother shade, and her attendant choirs. — 

This band, Curetes called by Greeks, as loud 

They clank their chains, distained with blood, and 

round 
The Goddess dance, shaking her threatening crest, 
Recall the Dictean Curetes, who drowned 
The infant cries of Jupiter in Crete, 
As erst round him, new-born, the agile choir 
With the loud plectrum beat their brazen arms, 
Lest Saturn seizing should devour the boy, 
And pierce his mother with undying grief. 
These armed bands attend to shadow forth 
The Goddess's command, that men should still 
With arms and valor keep their native land, 
To parents be an ornament and guard. — 
Though well-devised and fit, these antique rites, 
And high their import, yet they wander far 
From all reality and truth of things. 
7 



98 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Natures divine, by necessary laws, 
Profoundest peace through endless time enjoy, 
Far, far removed from man, and man's concerns- 
Free from all pain — from every danger free, 
Rejoicing in their self-contained wealth, 
Naught needing e'er from us, but are alike 
Regardless of our virtues or our crimes. 
But not the less for this, if any choose 
To give the name of Neptune to the sea, 
Ceres to corn, and Bacchus to the grape, 
Whose purple juice appropriate named is wine ; 
So let them Great Cybele call the Earth, 
Mother of gods, if they in fabling thus 
Stain not their souls with Superstition dire. 

The Earth is inert and devoid of sense, 
But in her bosom lie the seeds of things 
Diverse, she brings to light innumerous. — 
The fleecy flock, the warlike steed, the herd, 
Cropping one field, under one scope of sky, 
Their thirst assuaging at one fountain's flow, 
Not less diversely grow, and each retains 
The nature of its kind, from sire to son. 
So great diversity there is in food 
Of elements ; so great in flow of streams. 

Though bones, and nerves, and viscera unite 
To form an animal of what kind you will, 
They differ, formed of differing elements. 



Book II. 99 

Again, all things that set on fire are burnt, 

If nothing else, at least must matter store, 

Whence they can light, and heat, and sparks emit, 

And glowing embers bear, and cinders wide. 

Surveying thus all things by thought, you'll find 

That varied germs and seeds lie hid in things ; 

For many you may see at once endowed 

With color, taste, and smell ; as these diverse 

They needs must spring from differing formed seeds. 

Now taste can penetrate where colors fail, 

And odors in their way insinuant wind, 

And flavors reach the sense ; that you may know 

That forms dissimilar coalesce in one, 

And things are formed of differing elements. — 

As in our verse you many letters see, 

Common to many words ; yet words and verse 

As wholes dissimilar — as having much 

In common, but not all alike in all ; 

Thus common atoms may exist in things, 

The compound whole be yet dissimilar. 

Well may we then affirm diversely built, 

Of common elements, the tribes of men, 

All living animals, and rejoicing shrubs. 

But not for this may we suppose that all, 
Can in all modes be joined with all, for thus 
Monsters were formed ; a race half man, half brute, 
On whose huge trunks branches would grow like trees. 
The type of tribes terrestrial appear 



ioo Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Ill sorted in the seas ; Nature be seen 
Feeding through the all-sustaining earth chimeras dire, 
Forth breathing baleful flames from horrid throat. 
We know full well that none of these can be, 
Since all from certain seeds, by fixed laws, 
Created spring, and propagate their kind — 
For all is done by necessary laws ; 
Each animal from food assimilates 
A part adapt, and in its ducts receives, 
That to the body joined fit motions give; 
While what is alien Nature prompt ejects. 
Much silent flees unseen through secret pores, 
Expelled by shocks, that can't assimilate, 
Nor move harmonious in the vital play 
Of organs, nor bear part in acts of life. 
Nor deem for this that living things alone 
Are subject to such law; the same rules all; 
I Since all created things differ throughout, 
Wide differing atoms they must needs contain. 
Not but that much in common may be found in all, 
But all in course do not resemble all; 
For as their seeds all differ, differ things 
In forms, connections, weights, affinities, 
Which thus divide not animals alone, 
But land from sea, and the wide heavens from earth. 

Now a new truth receive, by labor won — 
By grateful labor, since to you redounds 
The fruitage of our toil. Think not things white 



Book II 101 

From atoms white proceed, nor black from black, 

Nor that the varied colors that invest 

The face of things, in any way proceed 

From color of their seeds; since atoms are 

Devoid of color, utter and entire. 

And should you think no effort of the mind 

Can such conception reach, you wander wide ; 

Since those born blind, who never saw the light, 

Know things by touch ; and so the mind can reach 

Knowledge of things unstained with any hue, — 

And what we handle in the shades of night 

We don't perceive tinged with distinctive dyes. 

Know, then, there 're things that colors cannot stain, 

Since every color changes into all, 

While primal elements can know no change ; 

Something immutable must perforce remain, 

Lest all sink sheer in utter nothingness. 

For what can change or pass appointed bounds 

Brings quick destruction on what was before. 

Guard, then, to taint with color seeds of things, 

Lest elements thus made mutable, you sap 

The sure foundation of the frame of things. 

Moreo'er, if no color be to seeds assigned, 
But they're endowed with forms that can beget 
All colors and their change, much it imports 
In what positions they can be combined, 
And what impulses they can give or take — 
Since thence you can explain why what was dark 



102 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Should now with a resplendent whiteness gleam ; 
As the cerulean sea, roughened by storms, 
Turns its dark azure waves to snowy foam ; 
Since atoms changing combinations, ranks, 
Can make the dark with lustrous brightness shine. 
But were the waves themselves cerulean, 
The sea could never wear its dazzling robe, 
For agitation powerless were to make 
The black to a marmoreal whiteness turn. 
But if the sea unsullied brightness owes 
To mingling of diversely tinctured seeds, 
As diverse figures come from forms diverse ; 
Then should the sea its varied colors show — 
As in a square we varied shapes can see — 
Since naught prevents figures diverse to join, 
And yet the whole exterior form be square. 
But varied colors in a thing forbid 
A brightness uniform of the whole to show. 
Thus fails the cause that prompts us to endow 
With color seeds of things, since white does not 
From atoms white proceed, nor black from black. 
And varied colors can more easy spring 
From atoms colorless, than can the white - 
Rise by conversion from opponent black. ■ 

Again, without light, no color can exist ; 
While atoms are not subject to its rays, 
Hence needs with colors must unclothed be. 



Book II 103 

What color is there in the dark, that in 

The light can change, and take all varied hues, 

As struck with rays direct or rays oblique? 

As in the sun the pigeon's changeful plume, 

That with an emerald collar girds the neck, 

Now glows with purple, now with rubies glows, 

Or with its coral red mingles the emerald. 

The peacock's outspread pomp, bathed in the light, 

At every turn reflects the shifting hues. 

What thus the brushing of the wings of light 

Can cause, without the light uncaused must be — 

The pupilled eye, when it perceives the white, 

Impressions different takes than from the black ; 

Nor matters it what colors clothe things touched, 

But rather what their forms, that you may know 

No need for color is to atoms, since 

The varied sense of touch from forms can spring. 

And since no color is to shapes assigned, 
But any shape can any color take ; 
Why are not things formed from them thus endowed, 
And every kind rejoice in every hue ? 
Why drops not then the crow, sometimes in flight, 
A feather white ? Why not one black the swan ? 

The more minutely things divided are 
The more their colors fade. The burnished gold 
To dust divided, or the purple robe 
Torn thread from thread, lose their resplendent hues, 



104 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Revealing thus that particles exhale 

All colors, and breathe out their lustrous dyes 

Ere they fall back from things to primal seeds. 

As not all bodies sound or smell emit, 
Hence not to all you sound or smell ascribe ; 
And, as some bodies are invisible, 
Infer that they devoid of color are ; 
Nor less sagacious mind can this infer, 
Than that there 're some devoid of sound and smell. 

Nor void alone of color atoms are ; 
They're void alike of moisture, heat, or cold, 
Savor, or sound, or smell — to all alike 
Sterile and dead, and free from their attaint. 
Thus when the odorous ointment we would form 
Of myrrh or marjoram, exhaling sweets, 
We choose the inodorous oil from olive drawn 
To bear the airy essence of the flower, 
Lest mingled odors taint the rich perfume. 
So primal elements in forming things 
Can bring with them nor sound, savor, nor smell, 
Since from themselves they nothing can emit ; 
But things created, be they what they may, 
A lapsing and corrupting nature show, 
Soft, pliant, brittle, or deep-mined with holes, 
Which far from elements must be disjoined, 
If we to things would give eternal base, 



Book II 105 

Potent to triumph in security, 
Lest all return to utter nothingness. 

Whate'er sensation has, we must confess 
From the insensate springs — facts manifest 
Confute not, but confirm and force belief, 
That all the living from the lifeless springs ; — 
For see live worms creep from the putrid clod, 
When the warm earth is wet with timely showers — 
Behold all things move in a ceaseless round — 
Moisture to herbs, the herb to the fed flock, 
The flock to man, in due succession come, 
And man himself, sometimes, from quivering limbs, 
Sad sustenance yields to swell the savage strength 
Of ravening beasts or strong-winged birds of prey. 
Thus Nature food of every kind converts 
To living bodies and engenders sense, — 
As the dead stubble and dry, lifeless thorns 
Unfold in flames, and ail converts to fire. 
Hence you may see of what great moment 'tis 
How atoms are combined, how, mingled, they 
Can varied motions give, or can receive. 

What then so moves your mind, and draws it forth 
In varied utterance, that you deny 
Sensation can from the insensate spring — 
Forsooth because stones, wood, and earth cannot, 
However mixed, alone give vital sense — 
Some bond harmonious it behooves must come 



106 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Before the lifeless can be clothed with life. 
Nor say I life indifferent springs from all, 
Such worth it is how atoms are combined 
Mysterious, with motion ranks affinities ; 
And though these be unseen in wood or stones, 
Yet they, fermenting with warm, fertile showers, 
Engender creeping things. Why this, but that 
Their ancient ranks, struck by some newer cause, 
Leap into life, and animals produce. 

Then they who say perversely that the sense 
Can only come from atoms sensible, 
Needs must suppose them pliable and soft ; 
For life is to a fragile vessel joined 
Of nerves and veins and viscera composed, 
That show a nature lapsing and infirm. 
But grant that atoms sensible and soft 
Can yet eternal be. Such atoms, then, 
Themselves are animals, or else as parts 
Must animated be ; but parts can't feel ; 
The limbs dissevered emptied are of sense ; 
For all must in one whole compacted be, 
And knit together in a living frame, 
Ere they can vibrate in the thrill of sense, 
Or bear their part in pleasure or in pain. 
Remains that they resemble animals — 
They then must feel as they, — that all in them 
May work in concert with the vital sense. 
How can they, then, primordials be called ? 



Book II 107 

How shun the paths of death, since living they, 
And life itself is but a part of death? 
But grant they could, — their union would but form 
A living medley — confused throes of life, 
Vain, unproductive — as birds, beasts, and men, 
However mixed, yet nothing can produce. 
Or if, perchance, they lose their former sense, 
And take new life, why thus the boon ascribe, 
And then retract, ascribing without need ? 
Return we then to our first pregnant proof: 
When from the egg we see the callow bird 
Emerge to life, its frail envelope chipped ; 
When see the clod, inert before, wet with 
Warm showers ferment with life, how then deny 
Sensation can from the insensate spring ? 

Should any say that sense from the devoid 
Of sense by change can come, as in the womb 
The embryo takes life before the birth — 
Enough to know, without a previous bond, 
Harmonious acting of the primal seeds, 
No birth can be nor any change can come, 
To give before birth to pregnant germs their life. 
Far, far too wide-dispersed must they be 
In air and fire and earth for them to join, 
And, coalescing in appropriate bond, 
Light up the vital motions that can give 
The all-discerning powers that wake in animals. 



108 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Then, when some greater shock a life assails 
Than Nature can support, sudden all sense 
Of mind and body is confused and stunned, 
The ordering of elements dissolved, 
Their bond of union snapped, the silver cord 
Is loosed, the vital tide turned back, and life 
With all its elements dispersed. But what 
Can blows do more than shatter and dissolve 
What once was joined ? O'er lighter blows thus oft 
The vital powers can triumph and assuage 
The tumult in the frame, repel black death 
Ere it subdues, to former flow recall 
The ebbing tide, relight the senses lost. 
How else, collected, could the soul return 
From gates of death to life, and not go on, 
As tending, pass beyond beyond returnless bourne ? 

As there is pain when organized matter's racked 
By any force within the living frame, 
It quakes and writhes in inmost seats, but straight 
Expands with pleasure when it settles back, — 
But know primordials no pain can reach, 
Nor can they savor joy, to every change 
Unsceptible, or pleasant or adverse ; 
Hence with sensation must be unendowed. 

Besides, if living things can sense receive 
Alone from sentient atoms, those forming man 
Must capable be of laughter and of tears — 



i 



Book IL 109 

Themselves philosophers — talk learned of seeds, 
And deep into their own secret natures pry. 
Assimilated thus to man, they must 
Compounded be of seeds like those of man, 
And these of others, for you cannot stop. 
If this wild raving seems, then needs confess 
The laughing may from what can't laugh proceed, 
And the perceptive from what can't perceive. 

We all are sprung from a celestial seed ; 
One Father is to all ; one Mother Earth 
Receives the genial showers, and pregnant made, 
Brings forth the shining grain, the herb luxuriant and 
The human race, all animals in their kind ; 
Since she fit food supplies, nurtured by which 
They joyous live and propagate their kind. 
Thus rightly she the general mother's called. 
All back returns to earth from earth that springs ; 
And all sent out from the ethereal courts 
The ethereal courts receive, again reclaimed. 
But deem not less the primal seeds etern 
That float in things — in birth emerging now — 
And now in death as suddenly dissolved. 
But the Destroyer cannot them attaint, 
Or them impair ; their bonds alone dissolve, 
That thus left free unite in other forms — 
By change of order — combinations new 
Creating all the drapery of the world — 
Objects of sense, the denizens of time — 



1 10 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

The heavens, the sea, the earth, the sun, the stars ; 
All fruits, and trees, and animals, and man, 
From seeds in all eternal and unchanged. 
That you may know how great the import is, 
How elements are ordered and combined, 
And what impulses they can give or take, 
As in our verse the self-same letters form, 
By combination's change, words all diverse, 
Thus the same elements in things, by change 
Of order, form, position, change the things. 

And now to persuasive reason's voice attend ; 
For Truth in aspect new demands belief, 
Belief of what is new, so hard to yield — 
For naught so simple, but, presented first, 
Is difficult of credence, and, again, 
Nothing so great, so wonderful, so rare, 
But custom dulls the admiration due ; 
For see the glorious light of sun and moon, 
The all-resplendent purple dome of heaven, 
Where dwell the fixed, where dance the wandering 

fires. 
What could more wond'rous seem, more rare, if now 
To mortals, shown sudden and unawares, 
What less within anticipation's scope ! 
Yet mortals satiate with the sight, scarce deign 
To lift to heaven an unobservant eye. 
Cease, Memmius, then, by novelty alarmed, 
My reasoning to reject ; but rather weigh, 



Book II. in 

And what is true accept, what false resist. 
For now the mind reason, her guide, demands, 
Since space is limitless, what is beyond ? 
Beyond creation's walls, what there is found, 
In those far-distant regions which the soul 
Alone can reach, borne on free wings of thought. 

First, then, since space on every side extends, 
Above, below, around, unlimited and vast, 
As I have taught, and Nature's self proclaims, 
How can it be with truth consistent deemed, 
When the vast womb of space lies open wide, 
With bounds unbounded to infinitude, 
And endless elements in endless rounds 
Creative float throughout unending time. 
How can we then suppose, known what we know, 
One single earth, one air, one scope of sky, 
Should unattended from the turmoil spring ! 
The more since here the World by Nature made, 
By endless clashings of the elements, 
Fruitless and blind, falling at length on those 
That sudden coalescing laid the first 
Foundations rude of the great ordered world, 
Of earth, and sea, and animated tribes, — 
Wherefore confess in other realms of space 
Worlds like to this float in the deep abyss. 

Matter abounding and with space prepared, 
And no opposing cause, much must arise. 



U2 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

If then so great the store of elements, 

Lives of all living cannot reckon up, 

And the same power and nature dwells in them, 

That here brought forth the World, we must confess 

There 're other worlds in other realms of space, 

Bearing their varied tribes of men and beasts — 

In confirmation see, nothing is formed 

Alone, but all in varied kinds. Regard 

The animate world, insect, and bird, and beast, 

And the mute fish in shoals banking the sea, 

How all in numbers beyond numbers swarm ; — 

And a like law holds in celestial space, 

The earth, the sun, the moon and glittering stars 

Exist not single but in troops immense. 

And since the deep-set boundary of life 

Is fixed for them, they pass from birth to death, 

Like all the tribes that living teem the earth, — 

Which well considered Nature's realm were seen, 

Free acting, and exempt from haughty lords, 

Her powers do all without intruding gods. 

Oh, sacred rest of the Immortals ! Ye 

That lead a placid age, and lives secure ! 

Who could avail — whose hands could hold the reins 

Of chaos, and the deep, and them control ? 

Who turn in equal course the orbs of heaven, 

Be in all places, at all times prepared, 

To draw the shades of night, and to withdraw, 

Rebringing day serene ? Who thunder rule, 

Reverberating often in a cloudless sky ? 



Book II. 113 

Who guide the bolt in thickest darkness veiled ? 
That blindly falls now on your sacred fanes ; 
Now wastes its fury on the desert plains 
Of ocean, and oft strikes down the innocent, 
Sparing with wild caprice the guilty head ? 

Long time the Universe in embryo lay, 
Till primal day arose to Earth and Sun, 
Concreting from without, and atoms came, 
By boiling chaos from her vortex whirled ; 
Whence sea and land swelled out their boundaries, 
The canopy of heaven spread out in space, 
And high above the wide terrestrial plains, 
The lofty domes suspended were in air. 
Each element, by natural impulse borne, 
Seeks its own kind, and to its own withdraws : 
Moist swells the moist, the earthy joins the earth, 
The fire feeds fire, the liquid ether air, 
Till all creative Nature hath built up, 
Each to its height of being, and attained 
Its final term ; when vital veins no more 
Can equal hold within, that which flows out, 
And Nature bridles thus their further growth. 
For, what we see by jocund growth increase, 
And step by step to adult age ascend, 
Takes and assimilates more than it ejects. 
Abounding nurture revelling in its veins, 
Assimilated, and not wide dispersed. 
That much outflows and ebbs away from things, 
8 



H4 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

Is manifest ; as more must join to build — 

Till, reached their prime, their adult age declines, 

And step by step they sink to their decay, 

With greater ruin as they boasted growth. 

For new supplies recuperative to support 

The large reflowing tide Nature denies. 

For all must be renewed by fitting food, 

By that alone is propped and sustained ; 

But all in vain when nurture can't suffice, 

Nor Nature furnish what her wants require. 

Then needs they perish — wasted by outflow, 

And yield like all things else to outward force. 

Since fails their age supplies restorative, 

Nor them sustains, while ceaseless battering blows 

Assail without — intestine ills within — 

They die, and e'en the fabric of the world, 

Thus one day stormed, shall wide in ruin sink. 

E'en now the worn-out Earth with age effete, 
Scarce a few wretched animals creates, 
That in her early prime all tribes produced, 
And gave to light the bodies huge of beasts. 
For not, I ween, full formed above were they, 
Let down from heaven by a golden chain, 
Nor sprung they from the sea birth of the foam ; 
But Earth engendered what she still sustains. 
To children of her care spontaneous gave — 
In rich abundance gave the shining grain, 
The pulpy seed, and trees of every growth ; 



Book II 115 

Gave the sweet offspring, and the vintage glad, 

Which now with labor huge she scant supplies 

In niggard pittance to more pressing wants. 

With weary steps we urge the weary ox, 

And turn exhausted fields, that scarce return 

Decreasing harvests to increasing toil. 

The aged ploughman shakes his weary head, 

So oft his labor unavailing proves ; 

The barren sheaves upon his threshing-floor 

So often mock his toil with chaff for corn. 

How doth he then repining chide his lot, 

Comparing present times with past, exalt 

The fortune of his sires — the antique race, 

Whose easy life, with piety replete, 

Flowed joyous, free, when narrower bounded lands 

Abundant harvests gave to lighter toil. 

While the sad tiller of the impoverished vine 

Impeaches march of time, and wearies heaven, 

Alas ! he not perceives great Nature fails ! 

Worn out with age the Universe decays, 

Borne on and stranded on the shoals of Time. 



END OF BOOK II. 



BOOK III 



OF THE SOUL. 

Praise of Epicurus. — Superstitious Fears of Death. — Nature of the 
Soul — Part of Man — Material — How composed. — Of Tempera- 
ments — Soul and Body mutually dependent. — Series of Arguments 
to prove that Souls are Mortal. — Epilepsy. — Souls cannot exist 
apart from the Body.— Suffer Change, therefore Perishable. — The 
Immortal cannot be joined to the Mortal. — The Soul being Mortal, 
Death is Nothing to Us. — Apostrophe of Nature to Man. — The 
Pains of Tartarus suffered in this Life — Consolations regarding 
Death. — Moral Reflections. 



BOOK III 



Oh thou who first on darkness so profound, 
Light so resplendent by thy genius shed, 
Revealing all the true concerns of life ! 
Thee do I follow, ornament of Greece, 
And plant my footsteps where your footprints mark ! 
Not with vain hope to emulate thy fame 
Thy course I follow, but from love profound ; 
For how shall swallows with the swan contend ? 
Or how the kid with trembling limbs compete 
With the firm vigor of the matchless steed ? 
Thou, Father and Discoverer ! thou suppliest 
Paternal counsels to us in thy books ! 
There feed we on thy golden words, as bees 
On vernal sweets in flowery meads — golden 
Indeed thy words, and well immortal deemed. 
For soon as thy audacious voice proclaimed 
That by no mind divine ordained, the frame 
Of Nature rose — our mental terrors fled ; 
The limits of the world fell back amain, 
The Universe of things stood forth revealed, 
Moving and acting in a void profound. 
The gods divine in peaceful seats are seen, 



1 



120 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Which neither winds assail, nor clouds obscure, 
Nor snow concrete, white falling violates, 
But bathed in cloudless ether, wide with light, 
Largely diffused the sacred stations smile. 
Nature meanwhile to them all things supplies, 
And naught doth e'er their peace of mind disturb. 
The Acherusian courts are nowhere seen, 
Although no shade of Earth e'er intervening comes, 
But far beneath their feet all things are seen 
Whate'er is done throughout unbounded space. 
In contemplating this, a joy divine, 
And holy dread possess my inmost soul, 
That Nature, thus unveiled by thy power, 
Apparent lies on every side disclosed. 

Now, since I've taught what are the seeds of things, 
Their forms how various, how spontaneous moved. 
They float excited in perpetual round, 
And how from them all things created rose, 
Now must my verse in lucid order show 
The nature of the Soul, and thinking Mind ; 
Forth casting the foul dread of Acheron 
That so profoundly troubleth human life, 
Suffusing all things with a deadly shade, 
And leaving naught of pure and liquid joy. 
For though men say disease and foul disgrace 
More to be dreaded are than death and hell. 
And little need my reasoning they to show 
That souls are mortal, made of flesh and blood, 



Book III. 121 

Closely regard these boasters, you will see 

They maintain this but as an idle vaunt, 

Not as a thing established and believed ; — 

For see them, once from friends and country torn, 

Lone fugitives from men, distained with crime ; 

Their restless souls bowed down with sharp remorse, 

And steeped in misery, yet endure to live ! 

Where'er they come they dismal rites perform ; 

Black sheep in sacrifice and offering bring 

To the infernal gods ; hounded by fears, 

In adverse hours more strenuously they bow 

Their abject souls to Superstition's power. 

Thus it befits in trying times to mark 

Men, if their natures we would truly know ; 

For then it is the soul true utterance gives, 

The mask falls off, the man stands forth revealed. 

Thus avarice often, and blind lust for power, 

Drive wretched men to o'erpass the bounds of right. 

Sometimes partners and ministers of crime 

Spend days and nights in labor overwrought 

To climb to fortune's height. These thorns of life 

Are mainly fostered by the dread of death. 

For, since disgrace and pinching want are seen 

Sore adverse to secure and happy life, 

They fancy them grim guardians of the grave. 

Thus men wrought on by idle fears, impelled 

To drive these from them and afar repel, 

Their fortunes will cement with civil blood, 

And slaughter heap on slaughter to gain wealth, 



122 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Rejoice inhuman round a brother's bier, 

And hate and fear their kindred's social board. 

By a like reason, from same abject fear, 
Lean envy hath its power to waste the frame. 
When men behold another high in power, 
In loud complaints they mad vexations vent, 
That he illustrious walks, with honors crowned, 
While they neglected pine obscure. Stung thus, 
They all will sink for statues and a name ! 

And oft to mortals haunted by this fear 
Life is a burden, hateful is the light, 
Till worn with sorrow, with a piteous heart, 
They seek relief in self-inflicted death — 
Forgetful that the fountain of their cares 
Is this same fear. This, this is honor's bane; 
This severs holy friendship's sacred bands, 
And natural piety from its base o'erthrows. 
Seeking escape from Acherusian courts, 
Men sink their country, friends, and kindred dear. 
For e'en as children tremble in the dark, 
And all things fear, we tremble in the light, 
And ofttimes fear things no more worthy fear 
Than what aflfrightens children in the dark, 
Filling the future with vain phantoms dread. 
These terrors and this blindness of the soul 
Not by the sun's bright rays ? arrows of day, 



Book III. 123 

Can be dispelled — rather by reasoning sound, 
Revealing Nature's aspects and her laws. 

First, then, I say, the Soul, oft called the Mind, 
Directeress and governor of life, 
Is part of man no less than hand or foot — 
Although some doting wise men say the soul 
No fixed location has, nor dwells in space, 
But is a function of the vital frame, 
A harmony called by Greeks, by which we live 
A soul, though soul nowhere exists apart ; 
As joyous health is of our frame condition, 
Not a part, and so the soul — erring in this — 
As oft we see, when sick, the body pines, 
Another hidden part within may joy 
Or sad the soul, the body sound the while ; 
As foot oft suffers when 'unharmed the head ; 
And when, the limbs enwrapped in gentle sleep, 
The body lies relaxed, the senses sealed, 
There's something still in us that roams in dreams, 
And feeds on empty scenes of joy or woe 
Now that the soul resides within the frame, 
Nor is a simple harmony of parts ; 
See life still linger when the limbs are hacked ; 
Or see it fleet, see life desert the frame, 
When a light breath the last faint sigh exhales. 
Learn, then, from this, not equally the soul 
Leans on all parts and finds support from all, 
But elements of warmth and breath sustain 



124 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Life in the limbs and guard its keeping there. 

Since then the soul is but a part of man, 

Leave to musicians, as befits the name 

Of harmony, whence'er derived ; whether 

From groves of Helicon transferred, or formed 

By them, needing for art distinctive term, 

Let them retain — do thou my further teaching hear. 

The Mind and Soul, I say, conjoined are, 
And by their union single essence make ; 
While, as the head and sovereign of the whole, 
Reason sits arbitress within the breast ; — 
For there it is our conscious being dwells, 
There fear and dread anxiety creep chill, 
And soothing joys play flattering round the heart, 
Which shows the soul is there that joys and fears. 
The other part, the vital power diffused, 
Moves at the impulse, and obeys the Soul, 
That in itself takes cognizance, and joys 
Though senses sleep, and thus an essence is, 
And the divinity that inspires the frame. 
As when some part, the eye or head, is racked, 
We are not tortured throughout all the frame, 
So Soul oft suffers by itself alone ; 
And oft with joy exults, when life diffused 
Through joint and member unaffected is ; 
But when the Mind's tumultuous shook with fear, 
Soul through all limbs suffers in unison ; 
Cold sweats and pallor seize upon the frame, 



Book III. 125 

Falters the tongue, the thin voice dies within, 
Thick darkness veils the eyes, the ears are stunned, 
The failing limbs collapse, down drops the man — 
Thus teaching that the Soul's conjoint with Mind, 
And when assailed the body feels the blow. 

And the same reason teaches that the Soul 
And vital principle material is ; 
Since it can move the limbs, the features change, 
Govern and agitate the man entire ; — 
Which only touch can do ; and since alone 
Material bodies touch, such then the soul. 
See too the soul and body sympathize, 
As when some weapon comes with piercing power 
Through bones and nerves, yet fails to reach our life ; 
A languor overcomes, we sink to earth 
For rest, the soul on rack tumultuous heaves, 
The wandering will prompts vain attempts to rise. 
Sure then the Soul material is confessed, 
Since thus it suffers from a weapon's blow. 

And now, to tell of what and how composed 
The Soul, its essence what, my verse proceeds. 
First, then, it is most subtle and minute, 
As manifest from its quick glancing flight, 
More rapid far than aught in nature else. 
Now what's so rapid needs must be composed 
Of atoms round and smooth and most minute, 
That freely yields, by slightest impulse urged — 



126 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

As water moves at any slightest force, 
So voluble and round its elements ; 
And honey's sluggish from cohering parts 
Constituent, not smooth, minute, nor round. 
The feeblest breath will chase the poppy seed, 
And its light heap disperse ; while piled-up stones 
Not Eurus' self can move. More mobile thus 
The small and smooth, more stable large and rough- 
And thus the Soul, so lightly moved, is shown 
Of atoms round and smooth composed — a truth 
Of ready service in our dark research. 

How subtle, too, the nature of the Soul ; 
To what minutest space it may withdraw 
By forced compression, further facts declare 
When the repose of death falls upon man, 
And life and sense depart, naught tangible, 
Appreciable by weight, to semblance 
Sensible, is filed away ; death all respects 
But vital sense and the warm breath of life ;— 
Thus soul is formed of seeds compact with nerves, 
That their departure leaves the encasing frame 
To sense entire, no particle withdrawn ; 
Like the aroma and perfume of wine, 
Or odors sweet of ointment fused in air, 
Where naught is seen to flee, nor balance nice, 
By loss of weight, its parting can detect, 
So subtle and minute their effluence ; 
Thus from the body steals the Soul away ; 



Book III. 127 

Hence passing small its elements must be, 
Since their departure bears no weight away. 

Think not for this its nature simple is ; 
A light, light breath of air with vapor mixed, 
And heat fleets from the dying frame, and thus 
A threefold nature in the Soul's revealed. 
But not all these sensation can produce, 
Or vital motions give and world of thought ; 
An essence still must come that knows no name, 
Subtle, minute, and conscious being give ; — 
Then vital heat and the mysterious power 
Of breath's infused, and all is struck with life ; — 
Then stirs the blood, sensation floods the frame, 
The quickened nerves awake to tremulous sense, 
And pain and pleasure thrills the inmost bones. 
But should, perchance, too poignant pain invade 
The seat of life, straight life deserts her seat, 
The Soul exhales through every opening pore, 
And the dull mass returns to native earth. 
But pain more frequent strikes not thus so deep, 
But on the surface plays, and, there confined, 
Leaves the Soul's life secure entrenched within. 

How in the Soul the elements are mixed, 
The secret bond to which they vigor owe, 
I fain would teach ; but native language fails 
To furnish fitting terms for such propose. 
But as I can I summarily will teach : 



128 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

The diverse elements informing life 

United act ; their varied powers compose 

A single power — as color, taste, and smell 

Unite in things, and single body form. 

Thus breath and heat and vital air unite 

With essence all unseen — that subtle power 

Which the initiatory gives, and thrills 

The sentient vibrations through the frame— 

Whose nature who can tell? — beyond our kerr, 

In lowest depths of being deep intrenched — 

Soul of our Soul, the life itself of life. 

Thus breath and heat and vital air unite 

Throughout the limbs, and mutual empire take, 

With one result for all ; for did they act 

Apart, all sense they'd sever and destroy. 

The heat of soul is seen when anger flames, 

And from fierce eyes a threat'ning ardor gleams, 

And frigid air, attendant upon fear, 

That sends a creeping shudder through the limbs ; 

While a more tempered aspect's seen to reign 

In peaceful breast and countenance serene ; 

And more of fire in those whose fiercer souls 

More easily inflame with gusts of rage ; 

As shows the lion's raging violence, 

Whose breasts cannot tumultuous waves restrain ; 

While in the deer prevails the inconstant air, 

That through their breasts shoots shudderings of fear 

At stir of leaf, and tremulous makes their limbs — ■ 

While gentler air endows the placid ox 



Book HI 129 

Placed thus between the lion and the deer — 
Since ne'er assailed by firebrands of rage, 
Nor torpid struck by darts of chilling fear. 
And such the temper of the human race, 
That howe'er trained and disciplined, it bears 
Some traces of the natural stock ; nor can 
Its innate ills be with their roots expelled. — 
Thus one is headlong borne by gusts of rage ; 
Another yields to fear, while bears a third 
A balanced mind more tempered and restrained. 
And thus they differ in a thousand ways, 
Whose hidden causes it were hard to tell, 
The reason give for such diversity, 
Or track the windings of capricious souls. 
But know, so little trace of natural stock 
Will in the soul by discipline be left, 
That naught forbids frail mortals to attain 
A calm and tranquil life, befitting gods. 

This nature held by body, to body is 
The guardian and supporter of its life — 
United so by intermingled roots 
Inseparable only in their common death. 
As from frankincense none perfume can pluck 
And leave the while its substance all entire, 
So Soul from body cannot ravished be, 
Or separation know, but both dissolve — 
So deep their fibres interwoven lie ; 
In origin of being so endowed 
9 



130 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

With mutual and associated life, 
That kindle sense by their joint influence. 
Besides, the body is not born alone, 
Nor grows alone, nor after death endures. 
For not as water can exhale its heat, 
Itself remain entire — not thus the soul 
Can from the body part, but intervolved 
They live together, and together die : — 
Long before birth within maternal womb, 
They vital motions take from common cause, 
On common cause their being's weal depends ; 
And when division comes to mutual life 
They sink together in a common doom — 
Thus joint their natures as their cause is joint. 

If any now deny that body feels, 
And feign the Soul diffused throughout the frame, 
Catches vibrations we sensation call ; 
Rebels perverse 'gainst manifested truth. 
For what can we of our sensations know 
More than what facts have given and revealed ? 
But when the Soul is fled — no longer feels, 
Say you, the body now become a clod. 
True ; for it loses what was not its own 
Peculiar property, but associate life. 
For, see you not how much is lost by age — 
How sense by sense goes out, and leaves alone 
A wretched remnant as a prey to death ? 



Book III. 131 

To say the eyes see nothing, but the Soul 
Looks through the eyes as loopholes and perceives, 
Is doting folly that the sense repels. 
For when we on the too-resplendent look, 
The dazzling rays embarrass quite the sight. 
But were eyes loopholes this could never be, 
But, they withdrawn, the soul more clear should see. 

Nor to explain sensation will the creed 
Of Democritus sage the more avail ; — 
That elemental parts of soul are joined 
To elements of body through the frame. 
Since fewer are the elements of soul 
Than those of body, and far more diffused ; 
Minuter far, thus fitted to receive 
Vibrations sentient that affect the frame. 
Much strikes the body that don't reach the Soul, 
As the light dust that settles on the limbs 
We don't perceive ; nor falling dews at night ; 
Nor the thin threads by spiders deftly wove, 
That interlace our steps at early dawn — 
Nor the light tunics that the insects shed, 
The floating plume of birds, or downy seeds 
That from their lightness scarce avail to fall. 
Nor do we feel each individual step 
That the light-footed insect running plants. 
For many atoms must aroused be 
Conjoint with nerves, and many motions spring 
To give vibrations that can reach the Soul. 



132 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Not less the Mind sits at the gates of life 
And dominates its being than the Soul ; 
Nor can the Mind remain clothing the limbs, 
For the least fleeting moment when withdrawn 
The shepherd Soul, to animal life itself 
A close companion that, dissolved in air, 
Leaves aye the stiffened limbs to damps of death. 
But life remains while Mind and Soul remain, 
Unharmed, howe'er the limbs be hacked ; the trunk 
Of members reft, still — still to life adheres ; 
As vision to the eye remains though torn 
The organed eye, so pupil be unharmed ; — 
But if that central ray be pierced, forthwith 
Light is extinguished, and blank darkness falls. 
Such is the bond of Soul and conscious life. 

And now, that you may know how Mind and Sou' 
Of living things have birth, and share mortality, 
Receive the verse by grateful labor wrought, 
To make it worthy of your dear regard. 
Since Mind and Soul so close united are, 
Regard them both as one while I proceed 
Under one name, as suits my theme, to show 
Equal mortality awaits on both. 
First, as already taught, they are composed 
Of atoms more minute than mist or smoke. 
More mobile, too, by slighter impulse urged. 
For oft in sleep we see high altars smoke ; 
So thin the effigies that affect the mind. 



Book III. 133 

As water flows from shattered vase diffuse, 
And mist and smoke dissolve themselves in air, 
Much quicker flows and perishes the Soul 
When once dissevered from corporeal frame. 
For when the proper tenement of earth 
No longer can retain its airy guest, 
How can it hold in the vast plains of air — 
How long survive in sheer vacuity ? 

Besides, as Soul is with the body born, 
And grows with it, it equally decays. — 
As children tottering walk with limbs infirm ; 
Their infirm minds with childish thoughts accord. 
When growing age robuster strength confers, 
It reason brings, prudence, and firm resolve. 
In later years, by rude assaults of age, 
The body shaken sinks beneath the blows, 
With blunted senses and decayed powers. 
Then halts and wanders the discursive Mind, 
Drivels the tongue, the childish temper dotes ; 
Of Mind and body equally all powers 
Together fail and at one point expire. 
Thus then the Soul, essential and entire, 
As clothed with strength by age with age decays — 
Wearied, worn out with what before upheld, 
Dissolves, goes out, as smoke goes out in air. 

The body racked with pain and fell disease, 
The Mind with grief and all-corroding care, 



134 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

Partners in suffering thus, so partners they 

In the great close and article of death. 

As in assaults of corporal disease, 

The mind oft wanders and delirious raves, — 

Or is with heavy lethargy o'erwhelmed. 

Sometimes as buried in a lasting sleep, 

Can neither hear the voice, the features know 

Of those around recalling them to life, 

Whose vain attempts bedew their cheeks with tears — 

Perforce confess then perishes the Soul, 

Since penetrable thus by sharp disease ; 

For pain and sickness ministers are of death, 

Too well we're taught by the thick-falling dead. 

See, too, the man when wine mounts to the brain, 
And through the frame the burning ardor runs ; 
How follows soon the leaden weight of limbs 
That staggering goes with intertangled legs. 
Why thickens now the tongue — drivels the mind ? 
Why swims the eye, and sighs and hiccoughs break, 
W T ith all that follows in the drunken train ? 
Why this, but that the raging violence 
Assaults and racks the soul in inmost seats ? 
But what can thus be racked gives token plain 
That when some cause more potent shall invade 
Will perish quite, all future life debarred. 

Sometimes, by dire disease, before our eyes 
The man is felled as by a thunder stroke, 



Book III. 135 

Foams at the mouth and groans, trembles, and raves, 
Struggles with stiffened limbs and gasps for breath, 
While ceaseless tossings rack the tortured frame. 
Truly, because disease torments the frame, 
As raging winds torment the yeasty waves — 
Groans are wrung out, and sighs, in that the limbs, 
Tortured with pain, the thickened utterance throngs 
The well-paved passages of speech ; he raves, 
Since powers of Mind, distracted, torn apart, 
Are by the poison severed and expelled. 
But soon as the cause of dire disease withdraws, 
And the black humors of the infected frame 
Back to their lair retire, the Soul revives, 
And scattered sense by slow degrees regains. 
While thus it labors, prey to fell disease, 
Thus racked, entrenched within its fleshly fort, 
How could it live dissevered in the air, 
Unclothed of body, battling with the winds ? 

The Mind diseased by art's appliance healed, 
Gives presage sure of its mortality. 
For parts to add or to detract alike, 
Or order change, beyond appointed bound, 
Must change the nature, be it what it may — 
But the immortal no accession knows, 
No diminution suffers, or decay, 
For change is death of prior being ; thus 
The Mind and Soul, or sickened, or restored, 
Mortality reveals ; so truth wrestles 



136 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

With error in a close embrace; arrests 
Her fleeting form at every turn, and by 
A double refutation stamps her false. 

Oft men by slow degrees are seen to die, 
And limb by limb to drop the vital chain ; 
The nails grow livid ; feet and legs grow cold ; 
And step by step the clammy tread of death 
Usurps the limbs, and dread dominion holds — 
Since, then, the nature of the Soul is rent, 
Nor comes it forth at once, whole in itself, 
Armed and entire, it mortal must be deemed. 
And should you think, perchance, it can retire 
To secret chambers, there invest itself, 
With sentient powers that limb by limb desert, 
More exquisite sensation should appear 
The soul endowing as it nears on death ; 
More sentient there where last it refuge takes, 
Arming itself before its final flight. 
But naught like this appears ; needs then confess 
The soul from body chased, hounded out — expires- 
But grant the Soul could gather to itself, 
The light of life that leaves the dying limbs ; 
Not less for this it mortal must be deemed ; 
Nor matters it, in point of mortal proof, 
Whether it perishes dissolved in air, 
Or in its clay-sacked citadel o'erwhelmed. 

And since the Soul is but a part of man, 



Book III. 137 

And dwells in fixed place, as eyes or ears, 

Or other organs that preside o'er life — 

As these dissevered can no longer feel, 

Nor e'en exist, but fall corruption's prey — 

So Soul divorced from body can't exist, 

Nor being claim without its house of flesh, 

Its casket, tabernacle, or containing vase, 

Or what can yet a closer bond express — 

For both alike their living powers possess 

By union and conjunction, nor apart 

Can they by Nature's law vitality enjoy ; 

For as the eye torn from its living seat 

No vision knows, so Soul from body torn 

Unconscious sinks ; by marvellous powers entwined 

With nerves and veins, it conscious lives therein, 

Nor can, escaping to the fields of air, 

New life enjoy, exult in ampler powers — 

The air itself would animated be, 

And take a living form, could it retain 

Escaping souls that burst their tenement. 

Again, again the soul, its fleshly veil 

Put off, its vital breath exhaled, must be 

Dissolved, since death comes from one cause to both 

The breathing body and the thinking soul. 

Again, as body cannot long support 
A severance from the Soul, but sinks in quick 
Decay corrupted mass ; how doubt the Soul, 
Gathering itself from inmost seats, when sinks 



138 Titus Lucretius Cants. 

The body tumbling in and crushed, must forth 
Like smoke exhale from out its crumbling house- 
Body to dust returning, forth the Soul 
Must flow perforce from every opening pore ; 
Existing only as diffused through limbs, 
Dissolve it must with the dissolving frame ; 
Dissolved and thus destroyed, before it can 
Glide forth and float viewless in plains of air. 
When moving yet within confines of life, 
The Soul oft sinks, as longing to escape, 
Then falls, each well-strung limb relaxed, 
The features pale as in the dying hour, 
And every power collapses through the frame — 
As when one sinks, o'erpowered in fainting fit, 
The trembling Soul seeks to regrasp the last 
Departing links of life ; faint and more faint, 
Loosed from its moorings in material frame, 
Its being shaken to extinction glides ; 
So little lacking to make death complete — 
How then believe, from body driven out, 
Weak spirit and exposed, its shielding lost, 
It can exist eternal in the air — 
Nay, any shortest instant can endure, 
Much less throughout eternity of time ? 
Nor does the dying man perceive his Soul, 
Uncamping from the body make its way, 
Now to the throat, now to the verge of lips, 
And then, enfranchised, take its final flight; 



Book III. 139 

But rather sinks it in extinction lost, 
Where 'tis entrenched in being's inmost seat. 

Nor, were the Soul immortal, would it grieve 
At death as dissolution, but rejoice 
That, disenthralled and free, it can go forth, 
Its weather-worn and tattered garment left ; 
As casts in spring the burnished snake its slough, 
The stag his bruised horns, the chrysalis 
His scaly coat exchanged for airy wings. 

And why are not the mental powers produced 
In head or foot or hand, but fixed dwell 
In their appointed seat, if not for all 
A certain place be fixed for all to grow, 
And where created, there must constant be ? 
As limbs their place and due relations keep ; 
No forms preposterous rise unnatural ; 
The law of order rules ; causation's chain 
Gives each appropiate place ; nor are flames wont 
To glow in brooks, nor takes ice birth in fire. 

Besides, if Souls from body severed are 
Still conscious and immortal, they, I ween, 
With the five senses must be full endowed ; 
Not otherwise can we conceive that Souls 
Can wander on the shores of Acheron. 
Thus, painters and poets of the early age, 
The disembodied spirits represent 



140 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Equipped complete with sentient faculties — 
But how can eyes or hands or ears remain 
To furnish forth the Soul to see and hear, 
When these have all with the lapsed body sunk? 

Again, since vital sense resides in all 
The frame, and life 's in all ; should any blow 
Come sudden to divide compacted frame, 
The Soul is severed by the self-same blow; 
But what division suffers, severance in parts, 
Immortal nature must thereby renounce. 

They tell of limbs by the scythed chariot cut, 
That quivering in the mingled slaughter lie, 
In heat of battle, while the man himself, 
Unconscious of the wound, perceives no pain, 
Nor heeds the throb of mutilated limb, 
So in the fight absorbed — but rushes on, 
Truncate of limb, but truculent of soul, 
Still brandishing the stump ; nor recks the while 
That severed arm and shield are rolling crushed 
'Mid chariot wheels and hoofs of fiery steeds. 
Another springs to rise on shattered leg, 
Or mounts the breach, his sword arm left behind ; 
The head that rolls beneath the trenchant axe 
A vital look retains and glaring eye, 
Till life and Soul, shade after shade, depart. 
The serpent, threatening with his forked tongue, 
If cut in twain, each part dissevered, cut, 



Book III. 141 

Writhing with torture from the recent wound, 

Sprinkles the earth with gore ; turned on itself, 

The horrid head tears at its proper flesh. 

How say you, then, there's soul in every part? 

Then many Souls to single frame you give. 

But Soul is single, and to single joined, 

Is cut in twain, hence mortal must be deemed. 

Again, were Souls immortal, and infused 
At birth in bodies, why of anterior life 
Remains there then in memory no trace ? 
But if so changed in every power, the Soul 
No reminiscence of the past retains, 
It differs little, this, I ween, from death. — 
Wherefore we must confess what was before 
Is gone, what now exists, created now. 

And, if the Soul with animating powers 
Be as a guest to finished body brought 
When we are born — the threshold pass of life — 
Why grows it with the body and the limbs ? 
Why rather not, as fitting, live alone, 
With independent powers, as in a cave? 
Which manifest facts declare it does not do — 
For Soul is so with bones and nerves and veins 
In union close conjoined, that e'en the teeth 
Are keen partakers of the vital sense, 
As prove the darting pains when set on edge 
By crushing unawares a grating stone. 



142 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

Hence needs believe Souls live not, without birth, 
Nor freed from death's wide, universal law ; 
For how believe a thing brought from without 
Could be with nerves and bones so intertwined, — 
Or, if it were, could go exulting forth, 
Safe and unharmed, they crumbling in the dust? 
And, if you think the Soul is from without 
Poured in, diffused through every quickened limb, 
So much the more 'twill perish as diffused ; — 
For what can flow 's dissolved, and so can die. 
As food diffused, through vital ducts and veins 
Is changed thereby, and a new nature takes. 
And so the Soul, though new integrant thing, 
To body flowing is thereby dissolved ; 
A power poured over, all informing all 
With life, and ruling all, a being new 
Must take, nor thus can it exist, exempt 
From proper natal, fixed funereal day. 

In the inanimate corse remains there then 
Seeds of departed Souls? If aught remains, 
Not then the mutilate Soul immortal is. 
Or goes it forth entire, the transient guest, 
Leaving no trace behind ? Why, then, in the 
Fermenting mass of carcasses corrupt 
Swarms such a knot of boneless, bloodless things, 
In slimy waves inundating the trunk ? 
For how believe souls living come to worms, 
A separate one to each, or how conceive 



Book III. 143 

Myriads of souls can throng where one departs ? 
Comes there a Soul to every germ of worm, 
And builds itself a house, or thrust they in 
To bodies fully formed ? 'twere hard to tell 
Why they do this, why toil they thus for pain ; 
Or why such bootless labor undergo. 
Why Souls assoiled, by flesh unprisoned, e'er 
Should suppliants be for pain, disease, and death ; 
Why crave a body but to share distress. 
Or, grant they for corporeal functions pine, 
How could the spiritual the material build? 
For Souls cannot make bodies for themselves, 
Nor from apart to perfect bodies come; 
For how could separate substances unite, 
Or in such subtle harmony combine ? 

How could fit Souls fit tempered bodies find — 
Rage in the lion, in the foxes wiles, 
Flight in the deer infused, from sire to son ; 
Did not in early age the disposition spring 
From certain germs and grow with growing years ? 
Were Souls immortal, and could bodies choose 
Or change, we animals should see fitted 
With Souls diverse, unsuited to their kinds. 
Then panic-struck dogs of Hyrcanian stock 
Would fly pursued by the rapacious deer ; 
The vulture, palpitating, cut the air 
In flight at shadow of the coming dove, 
And reasoning animals rule unreasoning man. 



144 Titus Lucretius Cams. 



Some falsely say the Soul immortal is, 
But suffers change oy mutability 
Of the inconstant flesh ; but what can change 
Must be dissolved, and what dissolved must die. 
Say they again, instinctive human Soul 
A human boo)y aye for lodgment seeks ? 
How then, I ask, becomes what now was wise 
So weak and drivelling in the tender age ? 
Why not the infant dissert as the old — 
The young as prudent as the age-confirmed ? 
If not from certain germs the mental powers 
Gain strength, and equal grow as grows the frame,- 
Forsooth for answer they must say the Mind 
Grows weak and tender in a tender age. 
But were it thus, they mortal it confess, 
Since, changed to suit its infantile abode, 
It loses consciousness of anterior life. 
How could the mental powers' keep equal pace 
In growth and Armature with the growing frame, 
How simultaneous they attain the height 
Of their perfections in the flower of age ! 
Unless companions from the early dawn 
Of being, they cohere in mutual life. 
Why hastes the Soul to leave decrepid limbs ? 
Fears it to be imprisoned in decay, 
Or overwhelmed in ruined tenement, 
When length of days has brought its final term ? 
But the immortal can no peril fear, 
Exempt from all assault — from all decay. 



Book III. 145 

What more ridiculous, more a mockery seems, 
Than that in troops Souls all immortal stand, 
Attendant on birth-giving throes of beasts ! 
That spirits numberless, immortal, wait 
The birth of bodies ; on the watch to gain 
A lodgment there by haste, and hold by force! 
Unless that Souls have custom, and a law 
That the first comer shall possess the right 
Of entrance, and vain combats thus compose. 

As trees are never rooted in the skies — 
As clouds float not in seas, nor fishes live 
On land — as flows no blood in stocks, nor sap 
In stones, but each keeps its appointed place, — 
So, too, the Soul can never rise to light 
Without corporeal frame, nor can .exist 
From nerves and blood estranged ; for, if it could, 
Much sooner would that spiritual power 
Invest a part — as foot, or head, or hand, 
And dwell in man apart as in a vase ; 
And since 'tis fixed where Souls can be and grow, 
So much the rather, then, deny they can 
Without the body rise — without it live — 
Wherefore, when body dies, we must confess, 
Wrenched from the body, too, the Soul must die — 
What greater folly can the mind conceive, 
Than the immortal with the mortal joined, 
Can thus agree, and mutual functions share 
Harmonious ? Ill-yoked companions they, 
10 



146 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Diverse of kind ; ill-sorted to support 
The rough encounters, rude assaults of life. 
Or deem we it immortal, that it is 
Full fortified against all hostile things ? 
Or hostile, they approach and quick retire, 
Vanquished and turned aside ere they can harm 
That spiritual power ; how wide from truth ! 
For while the Soul shares bodily disease, 
It has apart its own peculiar ills. 
Dread of the future haunts ; ill-boding fears, 
Corroding cares besiege ; bitter remorse, 
The sins of bygone years, lost opportunities, 
Like banded monsters howl, and ceaseless prey ; 
Add raving madness, and the dismal cloud 
Of blank oblivion that o'erspreads the powers, 
Or in black waves of lethargy o'erwhelms. 

Death then is nothing, and concerns us not, 
Since Souls by nature mortal must be deemed. 
And as no pain we felt in former times, 
When to the strife the Carthaginians came 
On all sides flocking, and throughout the world 
All things turmoiled, in war's dread tumult shook ; 
When doubtful 'twas under whose empire all 
Of human things, and sea, and land would fall — 
Thus we shall not be there when soul and body part, 
Since by their union, only, we exist- 
Then not existing, naught can us assail, 
Nothing our senses touch ; though earth should mix 



Book III. 147 

Tumultuous with seas, with ocean, sky ; 

And could the mind and animating powers 

Still have sensation when from body rent ; 

Naught would it be to us whose essence is 

In union and conjunction of the Soul 

With corpor'al frame ; and e'en could future time 

Our atoms reassemble after death, 

And rearrange as now, till life renewed 

Were given, — no import 'twere to us — no care, — 

When once the chain of consciousness is broke — 

As now 'tis naught to us what once we were, 

In the long night of time, ere birth of things. 

So naught 'twill be what time may bring of change, 

To matter for the fleeting present ours. 

Regard the past immensity of time 

Unions of atoms infinite ; of those 

That make us up, 'tis easy to believe 

They oft before have been arranged as now, 

Though memory no record doth retain. 

Death, the dull pause of life, hath intervened, 

And every trace from out her tablet razed. 

For he to whom the future ill can be, 

Must then exist that evil may befall. 

But death extinguishes ; nor permits that he 

Again himself shall suffer what's to come, 

Or be a prey to apprehensive ill. 

Hence we may know there's naught to fear in death, 

Nor can they suffer who have ceased to be. 



148 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Nor differs he from one who ne'er was born, 
Whose fleeting life sinks in unfleeting death. 

When one you see indignant at the thought 
Of what may happen to his corse in death— 
To rot on dung-hill, be consumed by fire, 
Or torn by beasts, know you his ring is false ; 
Though he deny belief that there remains 
Sensation after death, his thought belies — 
Some secret instinct of the heart remains ; 
Not wholly does he wrest himself from life ; 
Something survives to his unconscious self ; 
Though dead, he fancies beasts or vultures tear 
His body yet alive, and mourns such fancied fate — 
Asserting not his separate self, nor moves 
From his projected corse ; but feigns himself 
As standing by it yet, endowed with sense — 
Indignant hence he mortal made, — nor sees 
In death that's truly death there cannot be 
Another self — to mourn a self that's dead ! 
And were it bitter after death to find 
A tomb in maw of beast, how worse were this 
Than burn on funeral pile, or suffocate 
In sweets, or stiffen to the winds exposed 
On the slab surface of a chilling rock, 
Or crushed 'neath weight of dull incumbent earth ? 

Still, with sad accents men the lot bewail 
Of those who've sunk beneath the stroke of fate, 



Book III. 149 

And cry "Alas ! No joyous home shall thee 

Receive again; nor wife, nor children dear, 

To meet thy coming, haste to snatch the kiss, 

Touching thy inmost heart with secret joy ! 

No longer canst thou be the guardian of thy fame ! 

Alas ! one day accursed, unpiteous robs — 

Robs thee of all the dear rewards of life." 

But in their grief they little think to add, 

That in that day no longing will remain 

Within that tranquil breast for aught of these — 

Which well remembered quickly would relieve 

Their hearts from anguish, and their souls from fear. 

" Ah ! as in death thou sleep'st thou shalt remain ! 

Forever calm — forever free from pain ! 

While we stood near the horrid funeral pile 

And wept insatiate as thou turned to dust — 

No lapse of time shall from our bosom raze 

The eternal grief." But ask such mourner now — 

What is so bitter? Why should you deplore — 

Why should you pine thus with eternal grief, 

If all return to tranquil sleep and rest ? 

And thus men often upon festal days, 
While holding in their hands the sparkling cup, 
Their foreheads crowned with flowers, loud utt'rance 

give— 
"Short is man's hour of joy! but now it was, 
And now 'tis gone, nor ever shall return ! " 



150 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

As if in death they any want could feel ; 
That hunger them should pinch, or thirst should burn, 
Or least desire could e'er their breast assail : — 
With mind and body sunk in sleep profound, 
None for himself doth life or aught require ; 
Nor though the sleep should e'en eternal be, 
Will the least wish disturb the peaceful breast. 
Though not in sleep the principle of life 
Flows in our limbs so languid and so dull, 
But that aroused we rise to live again ; 
Then less than sleep should death regarded be, 
If less it can be than what is but naught ; 
Since wide disruption follows upon death, 
And no one wakes or rises up again 
When once they've touched the dull, cold pause .of 
life. 

If Nature then should sudden utt'rance give, 
Thus with loud voice the sons of men should chide — 
"Mortal! what ail'st thou, that thou dost indulge 
In such intemperate grief? Why grieve at death! 
If thy past life had aught of grateful joy, 
Nor pleasures on you heaped, were unenjoyed, 
Wasted, like water poured in leaky sieve — 
Why not a satiate guest from life retire, 
And take with tranquil mind secure repose ? 
But, if enjoyment wasted were on you, 
And life 's a burden, why seek more to add, 
What, like the past, must perish unenjoyed, 



Book III. 151 

But end at once your labor and your life ? 

Ingrate ! for you what new joy can I find, 

Since future must be ever like the past ? 

While now your body is not bent with age, 

Your limbs are lithe ; and no new joy can come, 

E'en though your life long ages should outlast, 

And you ne'er sink beneath the stroke of fate." 

What could we answer but that Nature thus 

Justly would chide, rightly the case declare. 

To one in years, poor wretch ! that should bewail 

More than is right, lamenting he must die ; 

Should she not rather with fierce voice exclaim ? 

"Glutton! away, and cease your mad complaint! 

The sweets of life o'erpast, your senses fail ; 

Since for the absent you have ever pined, 

And present good despised, life through your hands 

Has flowed unenjoyed — not unforewarned, 

Doth death now at your pillow stand, 

Nor sooner than that you, a satiate guest, 

And of enjoyment full, might from the feast retire ! 

Quick, then, dismiss things foreign to your age ; 

To sons give place necessity compels ! " 

Rightly I think she'd act, and rightly chide. 

Old things expelled must ever yield to new; 

By one's decay, another be upbuilt, 

And no one sink in gulf of Tartarus. 

For newer tribes, materials must be found, 

Which, their course run, alike shall follow thee ! 

Not less than now did former things decay, 



152 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

And being yield to others by their death ; 

For life 's to none in full dominion given, 

Its fleeting use — no more — is the sole gift to all. 

Regard the past eternity of time ; 

Before our birth 'twas nothing unto us. 

Here Nature, then, as in a glass presents 

An image of our future ; what so sad — 

What so appalling in our death appears, 

Where all remains more tranquil than a sleep ? 

All that which of deep Acheron is feigned, 
Doth truly only in our life exist. 
No Tantalus in misery steeped, as poets tell, 
Dreads the impending rock, torpid through fear — 
But rather men , by idle fear of gods 
Tormented are, dreading what chance may bring. 
No Tityus, on the banks of Acheron stretched, 
Affords to vultures an eternal feast ; 
Not though his limbs should cover acres nine, 
Not though immensely spread the world they fill, 
Could they for endless suffering suffice, 
Or furnish matter for an endless feast. 
But he is Tityus, — him do vultures tear, 
The man by jealousy devoured, or racked 
By anxious cares for any mad desire. 
And Sisyphus in actual life we see — 
The man who sues the people to confer 
Honors and office, fasces and the axe, 
And ever failing, shamed and sad retires ; 



Book III. 153 

For empire vain to seek, that ne'er is given, 
And in pursuit dire labor to endure ; 
This 'tis to roll a-hill a struggling stone, 
That from the topmost summit leaps amain, 
With headlong violence to the plains below. 

And those who nurse ingratitude of soul, 
Who, filled with good, unsatisfied remain — 
What can returning seasons do for them, 
Bringing anew young life and varied joys ! 
Since never satiate with the sweets of life, 
Their souls still gaping for a distant good ; 
Fit image form, I ween, of what is feigned 
Of blooming virgins pouring in a sieve 
The flowing water, that escaping still, 
They by no labor can avail to fill. 

Cerberus, the Furies, Tartarus profound, 
Forth casting from its jaws horrific flames — 
And Ixion bound upon the torturing wheel ; 
These no existence have nor truly can — 
But direful dread of punishment in life 
For direful crimes, is the avenging rock ; 
Is stripes and torture, burning pitch and brand. 
And were these wanting, still the conscious soul 
Feeds aye the snaky fears, and dire remorse 
The victim leaves not, but applies the lash. 
Meanwhile he sees no limit to his pain, 
Nor to his torture terminating bounds, 



154 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

But dreads in death their infinite increase — 
Thus, for the wicked, life grim hell becomes. 

This also you sometimes to self may say : 
" Good Ancus closed his eyes upon the light, 
Who better was insensate ! far than you — 
And many kings, the powerful of the earth, 
Who ruled great nations, ruled were by death. 
E'en Xerxes' self, who bridged the mighty sea, 
And gave his legions pathway o'er the deep — 
With tramp of feet out-bragging raging seas ; 
From dying body rendered up his soul. 
The chiefs of Rome, the Carthaginians dread 
The thunder-bolt of war ; great Scipio's self, 
Gave like the meanest slave his bones to earth — 
And, more than this, the godlike of our race, 
Fathers of science and the joyous arts, 
Companions of the Muses, and o'er whom 
Sole Homer holds the sceptre, have alike 
Sunk with the rest to the same deep repose. 

When erst advancing age with warning came 
To Democritus of the sure decay, 
He unreluctant stretched his head to death, 
And freely met him half-way in his course. 
E'en Epicurus died, his course fulfilled, 
Whose glory pales all glory of his kind, 
As the sun rising pales the drooping stars. 
Yet you hold back, reluctant still to die, 



Book III. 155 

Whose life itself is but a living death, 
Who wearest out in sleep the most of life, 
Drowsest awake, and ever dwellest in dreams, 
Bearing a mind o'ercharged with idle fears, 
Nor canst discern the true source of thy ills ; 
Beset, poor wretch, with miserable cares — 
Floating in blind delusions of the mind, 
And like a drunkard reel'st, unknowing where ! 

But could men once perceive the direful load 
Is on their souls that grinds them with its weight, 
Know whence it comes, to what it owes its power ; 
They would not pass their lives as now they do, 
Unknowing what they want, and seeking still 
By change of place their heavy load to drop. 
One, with the tedium of his house outworn, 
From its proud portals hastes, but quick returns, 
Finding abroad no respite to his pain — 
And to his villa drives with headlong haste ; 
Scarcely the threshold touched, he turns and yawns, 
Or to the city drives like mad again. 
Thus from himself each seeks a glad escape, 
And finds it not ; which way he turns the ill 
Still sticketh close and rankles in his breast. 
Diseased in soul, he knoweth not the cause, 
Which could he once perceive, all else cast by, 
The Nature true of things he'd seek to know ; 
Since the great question that importeth is 
Not man's condition for a few short years, 



156 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

But what remains to mortals after death — 
What their condition through eternal time. 



& 



What mad desire of life can us compel 
To tremble thus, with doubts and dangers vexed ! 
Since certain bounds to mortal life are fixed, 
Nor death can we escape, but all must die ; 
And living we but tread the round of care ; 
For lapse of time can but repeat the past, 
And lengthened life no pleasure new can bring, 
While to our minds the absent good appears 
All present to excel ; but when attained 
Palls like the past, and 's loathed in its turn ; 
But all the while by love of life we're held, 
Uncertain though it be in future time 
What chance may bring us or what fate impend. 
And though we know that lengthening out our life 
Naught can diminish of death's ample reign ; 
For, though our life long ages should outlast, 
Unending death will not the less remain — 
Nor shorter will his term of blank extinction be 
Who closed with yester sun his life's career, 
Than his who sunk ages ago in death. 



END OF BOOK III. 



BOOK IV. 



OF THE SENSES AND PERCEPTIONS. 

Exordium. — Of Images — Their Nature. — Cause of Vision. — Various 
Phenomena of Vision Explained. — Perception of Distance. — Phenom- 
ena of Mirrors, and of Light and Shade. — The Senses to be Trusted. 
— Appearances Deceptive from Wrong Inferences. — How Senses are 
Acted on. — Sound — The Voice — Echoes. — Of Taste, Colors, Odors. 
— Perception, how caused. — Things seen in Sleep. — Phantoms. — 
Organs of the Body not formed by Design. — Desire of Food. — Of 
Sleep. — Dreams — In Animals. — Of Love. — Unregulated Passion. — 
Generation. — Connubial Affection. 



BOOK IV 



I TRAVERSE fields untraversed by the Muse ! 
Through untrod paths I tread ! Oh, dear delight, 
To dip in virgin founts, large draughts to take ! 
Oh, joy to pluck new flowers and weave from them 
A garland for my head that never yet 
Hath decked a poet's brow — a garland earned — 
In that I treat a lofty theme, devote 
From Superstition's chains the soul to free ; 
O'er things obscure to pour the lucid song, 
And deck them with the charms of poesy — 
Thus wisely doing as the nurse adroit, 
Or skilled physician, when they seek to give 
To children sick the bitter absinth's draught, 
Touch at the edge the circle of the cup 
With honeyed sweets, that flattering the lips, 
The thoughtless age may drink the bitter draught, 
And caught deceived uncap tured be by death. 
Thus I, since now my theme to many seems 
Who know it not ungracious and severe, 
Well seek, lest they my proffered guidance shun, 
With studious zeal my reasoning to enfold 
In the sweet accents of the Muse's voice ; 



160 Tit 7 is Lucretius Cams. 

And clothing things obscure in garb of song, 
With pleasing art to win attentive ears 
To mark my words, till, learned in Nature's ways, 
Their worth and import they may truly know. 

Since, then, I've taught the nature of the Soul, 
From what 'tis formed with body joined, and how 
Dissevered, it to elements returns ; 
I now must treat a close connected theme, 
The effigies and images of things — 
That like to films from off their surfaces 
Fly thick through air, and to us waking come 
To fright the mind — but oftener in sleep, 
When wondrous sights, shadows devoid of life, 
We seem to see, dim harrowing the soul — 
Lest you should think that ghosts from Acheron 
Shades of the dead, among the living flit 
With visionary life endowed, and haunt 
Our paths, — or that in death aught can remain, 
When soul and body, sunk in equal doom, 
Have back returned each to its elements. 

Things then, I say, from off their surface throw 
Thin effigies — light films that well preserve 
The forms and semblances from which they flowed- 
A truth the dullest mind can apprehend ; 
Since many things, 'tis plain, such forms emit — 
Some light diffused, like smoke from burning pile, 
And some with firmer texture and condensed, 



Book IV. 161 

As when in summer the cicada casts 
Her slender tunic, or the gliding snake 
Puts off his glossy vesture in the brake, 
As shows the thorns decked with the silken spoil. 
From this 'tis easy to conceive how things 
Can images emit from surfaces ; 
For why such films should drop away from things 
And not these thinner films, 'twere hard to tell — 
Since on their surface lie atoms minute, 
Prepared to part, outline and form preserved — 
And all the quicker as in front rank placed, 
Nor hampered by a thronging multitude. 
For much we know, discharged from inner seats, 
And colors fleet from off their surfaces ; 
As oft we see the dome, like awnings spread 
Over wide theatres, yellow, red, or blue, 
That undulating float on masts outstretched, 
Tinge with their color all the scene below ; 
Make glow the hollow circuit, till within 
The robed Senate and the painted scene, 
Their colors toned are melted into one ; 
And all the more, more shut from light of day, 
By close, inclusive walls, will all within, 
Bathed in such radiant flood, blush forth till all 
With grace and beauty laughs the tremulous scene. 
While thus such floating veil can hues diffuse ; 
All things can well light images emit, 
Endowed with shapes, subtle, refined, and drawn 
From surfaces, apt counterfeits that can 
11 



1 62 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Preserve the form and semblance whence they flowed. 
But odorous smoke, thin vapor, and the like, 
Sprung from within, and, struggling to escape, 
Are rent and severed by the devious course, 
And come not out entire ; but the thin film 
Of surface color in the front rank placed, 
And ready to depart, there's naught to rend. 
For, as in mirrors, or the watery glass 
Of a smooth lake, or in a polished plane, 
Fair shapes appear in likeness of the thing 
Reflected thence ; they needs consist of images 
Which well preserve the forms from which they flowed. 
Sure, then, there are thin effigies and forms 
Which singly are unseen ; but when outpoured 
In a continuous and impulsive flow, 
Give, by reflection, images of things ; 
Not else could they such apt resemblance show. 

Now mark and learn how thin their nature is 
Of images — since first beginnings are 
Less than what sight can first avail to see. 
And further to confirm how fine they are, 
Know animalculae exist so small 
Their parts can't be discerned ; how infinite 
Minute must then their organs be ! 
The joints, and membranes, and pulsating heart — 
What the minuteness of component parts ! 
Why speak of nerves along which lives the sense 
Of feeling, and instinctive acts of mind ! 



Book IV. 163 

How they composed, — minute beyond degree, 
Or power of thought, minuteness to conceive. 
And herbs there are that odorous waves diffuse ; 
Wormwood, and rue, or bitter centaury, 
If lightly touched, their myriad forms, through air 
Fly thick invisible ; that you may know 
Idols and images innumerous float 
In air, yet powerless to waken sense. 

Think not that images that flow from things 
Wander alone ! since others spring from them — 
Spontaneous spring, and fill the embracing air, 
With floating forms of every shape around, 
Nor cease their forms dissolving to renew ; 
Shifting themselves to every Protean change ; 
As oft we see clouds thickening aloft, 
Stain the serene of heaven with changing forms, 
With swaying motions peopling the air ; 
Sometimes a giant shape seems as in flight 
To draw a lengthened shadow o'er the sky ; 
Or monster huge, drags or drives on the clouds ; 
Sometimes the form of precipices huge, 
Mountains, and rocks abrupt, and hills on hills, 
Above the mountains rise, and hide the sun. 

And now to tell how swift these idols glide 
In a perpetual stream ; how glide and die ! 
A something always flows from surfaces 
Like arrowy ravs forth darting on all sides. 



1 64 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

And these encountering thin, transparent glass, 

Pass through unharmed ; but falling on the rough, 

As wood, or stone, shattered, no image give. 

But lighting on the polished and the dense, 

They pass not through, nor shattered are ; 

The ready brightness them reflects entire. 

Thus mirrors, see, with images o'erflow — 

However suddenly, for how short a time 

You aught present, an image instant comes, 

That you may know how ceaselessly they form 

And flow, in stream unintermitted these — 

The thin consistencies and forms of things. 

For, as the sun with floods of light o'erflows — 

A dazzling deluge, inundating all — 

Thus, from all things — ever — on every side, 

Unintermitted images are poured ; 

As you may see, where'er a mirror turns ; 

Straight in its silent depths, the scene responds 

With apt similitude of form and hue. 

Ofttimes it happens that serenest sky 
Is with a thickening canopy o'erspread, 
As if all shades had fled from Acheron, 
And filled the vault of heaven — so thick a night 
Hangs o'er our head, such direful forms of fear. 
But none can tell how thin their effigies, 
Nor can words paint what mind can scarce conceive. 

And now with what rapidity borne on, 



Book IV. 165 

These idols — what velocity endows, 

To traverse instant boundless realms of space — 

I fain with few, but flowing words would tell. 

The swan's low note more moves the listening soul, 

Than the loud clamor of the incessant cranes, 

By winds dispersed to all the clouds of heaven. 

Know, then, the lighter still more swiftly move, 

As solar rays forth darting light and heat — 

Formed as they are of most minutest parts — 

Light, light impelling in continuous stream. 

Thus images with like uncumbered ease, 

Dart instant through immeasurable space, 

Lightest of airy things, by rearward cause, 

Borne onward and impelled, of texture rare, 

To permeate at ease all interposed, 

And flood with shapes the intervening air — 

And if such corpuscules minute as light, 

And heat, launched from sun's inmost seats, 

Can instant traverse the ethereal space — 

Why should not images in front rank placed, 

Forth darted whence they spring, and, clogged 

By no delays, much farther, quicker go ! 

Companions of the light, with equal speed, 

To overcome with it the plains of space, 

With swifter flight e'en reach remoter goals, 

Than can the winged radiance of the sky ? 

In proof of their ineffable swift flight 

In open air, let but a finger's breath 

Of lucent water spread, forthwith will all 



1 66 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

The starry skies, the radiant orbs above, 

With answering face appear ; that you may know 

An instant image drops from heaven to earth. 

Hence, then, you must admit that bodies flow — 

With marvellous rapidity must flow 

From things, glance to the eye, and vision wake. 

So odors flow from things odoriferous, 

Congealing cold from ice, from sun fierce heat, 

While briny vapor rising near the sea, 

Corroding wastes the walls along the shore, 

And mingled sounds cease not to float in air. 

A savor salt comes to us near the sea, 

And bitter flavor where they absinth bruise. 

Thus, from all things something that wakens sense 

Must on all sides unintermitted flow, 

Since always we perceive, and smell, and hear. 

Again, what in the dark by handling we perceive 
Is recognized the same when seen in light. 
Hence, a like cause affects the touch and sight — 
And what is felt in darkness as a square, 
Can have in light none but an image square ; 
Which then is the efficient cause of sight. 
Hence, from all things, and on all sides are poured 
The images of things ; for wheresoe'er 
We turn our eyes, they meet the obvious scene, 
In form appropriate, and color decked. 
Nor this alone, but distance we perceive ; 
And this alone to images is due, 






Book IV. 167 

Since they protrude the intervening air, 

And, gliding with it to the eyeball come, 

Brushing the pupil with such airy wing, 

That sense of distance thus instinctive comes, 

As more or less of air glides glancing by — 

And this so rapid, that in single act 

We see a thing, and what its distance is. 

And let it not blind wonder rouse, that these 

Fleet images, thus streaming to the eye 

Are viewless ; yet by them all things are viewed — 

As when assailed by piercing wind, or cold, 

The atomic wind or cold we don't perceive, 

But rather their effects resultant feel, 

As if of something beating from without — 

If with a finger we a pebble push, 

We but its dull, investing color touch, 

Nor this do we perceive ; for touch reveals 

Naught but the hardness of the thing that's touched. 

Now learn why the reflected image in a glass 
Appears beyond the mirror's polished plane, 
Deep bosomed in its visionary depths— 
As when the open door reveals to sight 
The outward scene, a double image comes 
Of world within, and world without ; since light 
From nearest things comes first, then from remote ; 
So when an image from the mirror comes, 
Protruding air between it and the eye, 
It is the first perceived ; but with the glass, 



1 68 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Forthwith comes, too, the image mirrored there, 
Protruding further air ; the which perceived, 
Causes the image to appear remote. 
And little wonder this, since mirrored forms 
By traversing two aerial spaces come ! 

If now you ask why what's in mirror seen 
Appears reversed — the left become the right — 
'Tis that the image falling on the plane, 
Reflected, is turned back, not unimpaired. 
As when the plastic mask of wax, or clay, 
Dashed sudden 'gainst a wall, backward reverts ; 
The eye, and cheek, but now that were the left, 
Become the right by mutual interchange. 
From mirrors too, to mirrors fitly placed, 
The image flits and multiplies its form. 
Retired scenes in dark recesses hid, 
May thus be dragged to light through winding ways ; 
The fluent image formed, and glancing quick 
From glass to glass is changed, and then restored. 
Curved mirrors rounded — shaped, give images, 
Where right responds to right, — either because 
The image, fleeted back from side to side 
Of polished plane, comes to us twice reversed ; 
Or the curved form of mirror makes it turn. 
The reflected image, too, appears to move 
With us when moving, and with us to stop, 
A servile minister upon our steps. 
If from before the mirror we withdraw, 



Book IV. 169 

Straightway no image comes ; for with what slope 
They fall, Nature compels them to revert again. 

The eye shrinks from the too resplendent light ; 
The sun will blind, gazed on with orb direct ; 
So heavily fall the rays through the pure air ; 
They pierce the eye, and its fine tissues rend. 
The jaundiced eye sees all with yellow hue ; 
So many atoms of that color fill 
The orb of sight, they images affect, 
And them with their contagious color stain. 
We out of darkness see things done in light ; 
Since nearer murky air that first invades 
The eye is by succeeding lucid purged, 
That coming clears the way the dark obstructs : 
Then straight in open paths the images 
Of things appear, and struggle to the sight. 
But what's in dark we in the light see not ; 
The thicker air of darkness coming, chokes 
Each prompter visual ray, and smothers all — 
Square turrets, crowning distant, lofty height, 
Appear as round, their sharpened angles lost, 
Their images in air abraded, worn, 
And rounded-off, angles effaced they show 
Not like the truly round seen close at hand, 
But shadowed to a likeness of the round — 
The obsequious shadow that attends our steps, 
When walking in the sun, seems of itself 
To walk with us, and every gesture mock, 



170 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Yet nothing- is but space deprived of light ; 

For, where we go, straight our intrusive form 

Robs of the light successively each place ; 

Resuming brightness when such bar's withdrawn 

Thus with our steps the shade attendant moves ; 

Since rays of light continuously stream out, 

And perish as they stream, like wool licked up by 

fire. 
Thus easy 'tis earth to despoil of light, 
And to restore, effacing dismal shades. 

But yet we don't admit that sight 's deceived ; 
Its office is to mark the light and shade ; 
But whether 'tis the same or light or shade, 
Now here appearing, and now passing there ; 
Or whether all is done as I've explained — 
This reason must discern its office fit; 
Nor can the eye pry to the depths of things, 
Their natures scan. Exact not then too much, 
Nor tax the eye with errors of the mind — 
The ship that bears us stationary seems, 
And what on shore is fixed, appears to move ; 
The hills and plains toward which our vessel tends, 
Seem rushing on us, flying toward the stern : — 
The stars look fixed, in the ethereal depths, 
Though all are dancing in perpetual round ; 
They rise, and to their far-off setting haste, 
With lucent orb accomplishing long career : — 
The sun and moon their stations seem to hold, 



Book IV. 171 

Though facts reveal how rapidly borne on : — ■ 

The mountains rising in the middle flood, 

The far-off peaks, upstanding from the sea, 

Though wide disjoined that fleets might pass between ; 

At distance viewed one land appear to be : — 

To children dizzy with their whirling play, 

The fixed walls whirl round them when they stop ; 

The pavement undulates to waving frieze, 

And tottering columns threat an overthrow. 

When with returning day the rising sun 
Rests on the mountain tops his tremulous rays ; 
Though close at hand his fervid orb appears, 
On the hill-top, a thousand arrow flights — 
Between us yet and him the plains immense 
Of ocean spread, stretched to the ethereal shore ; 
And leagues on leagues of land are interposed, 
That savage races hold and tawny tribes. 

A finger's breadth of water in a cleft 
Of the paved way, to the astonished gaze, 
Opens as deep a vault beneath our feet 
As high the arch of heaven overhead ; 
That other stars and skies Ave seem to see, 
A wondrous heaven bosomed in the earth — 
If, stopped our steed in crossing rapid stream, 
We gaze upon the waters hurrying by ; 
The waters seem at rest,— the standing steed, 
Struggling against them, seems to mount the stream. 



172 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

The long-drawn porticos on pillars propped, 
When viewed from either end in all their length, 
Seem drawn together by perspective laws ; 
Roof nears the pavement, side approaches side, 
And cone-like sharpens to a point at end. 

To the wayfarer on the sea, the sun 
From ocean seems to rise, in ocean sink. 
Not that the sight deceives, for naught is seen 
But the round ocean girdled by the sky : — 
To unaccustomed eye the floating ship 
Appears to waver, and with broken oars 
To struggle on the waves, the part above 
The water showing straight, while all below 
Seen through the waves refracted, broken, bent, 
Seems upward struggling to the topmost float. 

When by the winds through heaven the fleecy 
clouds 
Are borne at night, the shining orbs appear 
To glide with adverse tide against the stream, 
Tending above to some supernal goal — 
If be by chance one eyeball forced aside, 
A new scene comes, and all that we behold 
A double image bears — double the lights ; 
In double scene around move double men. 

When sleep reposeful hath bound up the limbs, 
And all the body lies in rest profound, 



Book IV. 173 

Oft as awake we seem our limbs to move, — 

In thickest night seem to behold the sun 

And light of day ; to narrow couch confined, 

Our skies, our seas, our hills, and woods we change ; 

Traverse wide plains with buoyant treading feet ; 

Hear world of sounds where night's dread silence reigns, 

And, silent, seem the loud response to give. 

And many things of this like marvellous kind 
Might seem our senses to impeach; wrongful, 
For these appearances deceptive are, 
From inferences of mind thrust in and joined 
To evidence of sense, — regarding things 
As seen, that never were to sight revealed — 
So hard it is to draw distinctive line 
Between the apparent and the sure, and separate 
Reality, from fictions of the mind. 

But those who say that nothing can be known ; 
Know not e'en this, confessed they nothing know. 
Who strives with them must treat an idle theme, 
Who turn their backs on their own proper light. 
But grant this known, the question will remain, 
When in all other things no truth they find — 
How know they this — what 's knowing and what not ? 
Where find criterion of the true and false ? 
How prove the doubtful differing from the sure? 
All apprehension of the truth proceeds 
From sense, nor can its witness be impugned ; 



174 Titus Lucretius Cartes. 

For that requires something of greater faith, 

That shall instinctively refute the false. 

But what is there can greater confidence claim 

Than sense ? What challenge equal trust with that ? 

Can inference drawn from false appearance weigh 

Sense to impeach ? Founded itself on sense, 

Were that not true the inference must fail ; 

Or can one sense claim precedence and rank 

Above the rest — the ear confute the eye, 

The touch convict the hearing of deceit, 

Or taste arraign the evidence of touch ? 

Nay, well I ween they varied functions own, 

And wield divided power, and separate reign, 

With diverse functions in divided spheres — 

For what is hard or soft, or hot or cold, 

Must be determined by its proper sense, 

And recognized as such apart the rest. 

Colors show but themselves, and qualities 

With colors joined, are judged of as apart. 

Nor can the senses take themselves to task ; 

Since all, at all times an equal credit claim ; 

And that is truth which sense presents as such, 

As such must be received, where'er revealed. 

And though our reason e'en should fail to show 

Why what is square at distance seems a round ; 

'Tis better to allow that reason halts, 

Than from our hands let evidence escape ; 

Truth in her inmost seat to violate, 

And, self-destroying, the foundations sap 



Book IV. 175 

On which our life and safety must depend. 
Not reason only fails, but life itself, 
Unless we trust all confident to sense ; 
And shun to tread such mined and crumbling paths- 
Holding vain babbling all the host of words 
Against the senses drawn in long array. 
For as a structure raised on plumb-line false, 
However small it deviates from the true, 
All false appears, discordant and unsound, 
Leaning and toppling and bent awry, 
Already falling or about to fall ; 
So reasoning must be false, depraved, unsound, 
Founded on sense, if senses can betray. 

Now, how each sense fit object can perceive 
Tis easy to explain : first sound and voice 
Through ear insinuate, there acts on sense 
With body ; for all sounds corporeal are, 
Since like to body they our organ strike — 
And voice escaping to the sphery air, 
Roughens the throat, abrades the passages ; 
Thus of material atoms is composed, 
Since it can wound what is material ; 
And speech continued from the rise of dawn 
To shades of night exhausts the nerves and strength — 
Abstracting thus needs must corporeal be. 
Roughness of voice again from roughness comes 
Of atoms, as the smooth from atoms smooth ; 
Nor do like elements invade the ear, 



1/6 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

When Phrygian pipes drone heavily, or when 
The region echoes with the bellowing horn — 
As when the swans in vales of Helicon 
Utter with liquid voice their sad complaint. 

When marvellous formed we voices forth emit, 
The pliant tongue, artificer of words 
Upon the lips articulately framed, 
Sends forth fleet messengers, — for distance meet, 
Their modulated form the words retain ; 
But farther passing, disarranged by air, 
Melt to confused sound; — the thought exhales 
From airy vehicle by lengthened flight, 
And sound alone comes murmured and involved. 
So when the edict, winged by herald's voice, 
Comes to all ears, the articulate voice sent forth 
Divides itself to each particular ear, 
And stamps the form of modulated words ; 
While all the voice that falls not on the ear, 
Borne wide, is lost — through the thin air diffused— 
But sometimes falling upon solid walls, 
Like to a masker in a thin disguise, 
Light Echo comes with faint and shadowy words ; 
Revealing thus how 'tis that oft the rocks 
In many a lonely place return the sounds 
In order due, faint syllabled in words, — 
When with loud voice upon the wooded hills 
We call to our companions wide dispersed, 
In faint response thin vocables return. 



Book IV. 177 

Thus there are spots that for one rallying shout, 
Will seven shouts return, with gradual fall 
And truthful iteration, that it seems 
Hills vocalize to hills. These are the spots 
Where haunt goat-footed satyrs and the nymphs, 
As shepherds tell, and fauns, an airy troop — 
Whose jocund noise and play night wand'ring oft, 
They feign, the pensive stillness breaks with sound 
Of stringed lute or soothing plaint of song, 
Joined with shrill-sounding pipe, as o'er the stops 
Light fingers play — the awe-struck hinds, peering 
Through leafy screen at distance, think they see 
Amid the boughs the shepherd Pan, shaking 
The leafy crown of his half-human head ; 
As with bent lip he sounds his reeden pipe, 
That ceases not to pour the woodland lay. 
And many marvels of this kind they tell ; 
Lest we should think the solitary place 
Deserted by the gods, — or other cause, 
They people them with these fantastic troops — 
Delighting in the marvellous ; for know 
The human race have all insatiate ears ! 

And now it little wonder need excite 
That sounds can pass, and sense of hearing wake, 
Where fails each visual ray, no image seen; 
Thus through closed doors discourse is held ; for 

sounds 
Can pass unharmed through many a winding way, 

12 



178 Tit its Lucretius Cams, 

While images require a path direct. 

And further, sounds divide in many parts — 

And from one source a multitude outfly, 

As from a fire, the briskly glancing sparks 

Fill with a luminous shower the compass round ; 

Thus, all the circuit with one voice is filled, 

And each withdrawn recess vibrates with sound ; 

While visual images move in line direct, 

Forth tending on the course they first are sent. 

Thus none can see what's placed above their heads. 

But sounds can hear, from all the sphere around. 

Yet voice by barriers deadened sinks to noise, 

Confused and void, articulate words suppressed. 

And now how palate and the tongue perceive 
Flavors and taste, 'tis easy to explain : — 
Taste, then, holds seat in regions of the throat ; 
When tooth-armed jaws compress convenient food, 
As by the hand might be a filled sponge— 
The savory juices o'er the ducts diffused, 
Of the nice palate, the involved pores, 
And winding passages of the dewy throat, 
Awaken taste in its retired seats. 
If smooth the atoms of bedewing juice, 
They grateful come, and gratefully excite 
The sensuous regions of the absorbent tongue ; 
If rough they wound the organ and offend. 
The savored gust to palate is confined ; 
For when the food the fauces has outpassed, 



Book IV. 179 

How savory ere, it ceases to delight — 
Nor matters it with what the body 's fed ; 
If what 's received concocted well can be, 
And the humected stomach keeps its tone. 

And now, my theme pursuing, I must tell 
Why different viands different palates please ; 
Why what 's to some revolting and austere 
To others grateful and delightsome comes ; 
Why what is food nutritious unto these 
Is death and deadly poison unto those — 
So great their distance and diversity. 
The hellebore infused — a deadly draught 
To man — fattens the nibbling goat and quails — 
The dreaded serpent with saliva touched, 
Warred on by all that's human, and enraged, 
Turns on himself his own envenomed tooth. 
This to explain, befits it to recall 
How varied atoms mingled are in things ; 
How animals that draw their daily life 
From daily food, differing in form extern, 
Differ yet more within in ducts and veins, 
Organs, and membranes, and absorbent pores 
Of mouth and palate, where the taste resides. 
Since these, then, are narrow in some, or wide, 
In others square or round, — befits it that 
The shape of channel suit the atoms' shape. 
(Hence, what to some is sweet, to others is 
Bitter, as forms are fitting or adverse. 



i8o Titus Lucretius Car us. 

And in like manner all may be explained — 
When fever rages from o'erflowing bile, 
Or fell disease invades, whate'er the cause; 
Straight every function is deranged within, 
And food that once was grateful now offends, 
Or hostile turned, provokes the bitter pang ; 
E'en honey, sweet distilled from sweets, contains, 
As all may know, the bitter with the sweet. 

How to the nostrils winged odors come, 
I now unfold. First, many things there are 
From which the varied waves of odor flow ; 
And as they flow address themselves to all ; 
But not alike in shape, they suit not all : — 
The honey's fragrance draws the bees from far ; 
The vultures gather at first tainted breath 
Borne on the air from the outlying dead ; 
The hound's keen scent prophetic points where passed 
Clove-footed deer ; the bright white goose that waked 
The capitol's defence for early Rome, 
Scents from afar the sweaty taint of man. 
Thus varied powers of smell the varied beasts, 
Like a protecting Providence, attend — 
A guide to fitting food — a warning guard, 
Instinctive, them from poisons to defend ; 
And thus preserve their races from decay. 
These various odors varied distance reach, 
But all less ample circuit fill than sounds, 
Or the far-reaching sight ; emerging slow 
From inner seats more languidly they rise, 



Book IV. 181 

And, faintly floating, lose themselves in air. 

That odors spring from deep recess of things 

Is manifest, since what is bruised becomes 

More redolent than before ; as clearly, too, 

More gross their atoms are than those of sound, 

Since walls they pass not, where well sounds can pass 

The odoriferous, too, its hidden seat 

Betrays not, or at most, dimly reveals. 

Benumbed in air, its waves float languidly, 

Nor cunning tell-tale to the nostrils comes, 

Revealing secret source ; and thus we see 

The hounds oft puzzle on a doubtful scent. 

Nor taste and smell alone come variously ; 
Colors, the visual images of things, 
Suit not alike all eyes, but some offend. 
The lion fierce shudders when he beholds 
The early cock, whose shrill, clear voice is wont, 
With his applauding wings to chase the night, 
As with loud voice he summons up the morn, 
And at the sight turned quick affrighted, flies — 
Since some emission from the strutting bird, 
Harmless to us, his eyeballs pierce and pain. 

Now learn in few words what acts upon the mind y 
What, and whence come our mental images. 
First, then, innumerable idols float in space, 
Of texture finer than the attenuate thread 
Of spider, or the woof of filmy gold. 



1 82 Tit us Lucretius Car us. 

More subtle, too, than images of sight, 

Since they through rarer pores can penetrate, 

And sentient make the mind in inmost seats. 

These ofttimes meet in air, unite and form 

Portentous images ; Centaurs perchance, 

Scylla or Cerberus, girt with barking dogs, 

Or shadowy ghosts of those whose bones long since 

Lie buried deep beneath the silent earth. 

For everywhere these images are formed — 

Part emanate from things, and part from these 

Spontaneous formed, disport themselves in air. 

For sure no image of a Centaur from a Centaur came, 

Since none exists ; but image of a horse 

Might easily cohere with that of man. 

Thus, all extravagant and wild dreams are formed 

From these light, airy, floating images 

That wand'ring, free, subtle impressions give ; — 

For light the mind, and marvellously moved. 

That thus it happens, further know from this : 
By self-same process does the mind perceive 
As sees the eye ; an image comes to both, 
Nor differing, but attenuate most the mind's. 
Not otherwise, when slumber steeps the limbs, 
To mind awake the phantoms thronging come, 
That present were to sight throughout the day. 
'Tis thus we seem to see the buried dead 
Returned to life ; since sleep oblivious then 
Subdues our powers, o'ermastering the sense. 



Book IV. 183 

Nor can we bring the false to test of truth, 

When memory slumbers on Lethean bed, 

Nor those recall as dead who move along 

Our mental imagery as though alive. 

And let it not surprise that images 

Can in harmonious numbers move their limbs, 

As oft in sleep the phantoms seem to do. 

Since as one shadow fades, another comes 

Its place to fill with varied attitude, 

But seems the same, so fleet they changing come. 

How many questions throng for answer here ! 
How much to be cleared up, if all we'd clear ! 
For first 'tis asked how comes it that the mind 
Commands conceptions, and its thoughts at will ? 
Wait then the mental images on mind, 
That as we will obsequiously they come ? 
If sea, or land, or sky be in our thought, 
Or gathering of men, battles or feasts, 
Straight to our inner eye the scene appears 
With bright but shadowy subsistence decked. 
Does Nature at our beck then images 
Prepare, and instant to their office send, 
When other minds remote, at self-same time, 
May by conception call far different things ? 
When in our dreams the airy troops advance 
With measured step, and move their pliant limbs 
Alternate, and to mental sight their feet 
In measured cadence fall, what must we think ? 



1 84 Titus Liter etius Cants. 

Are these light phantoms skilled by Nature's art, 

Such nightly pomps to show, or comes it not 

That as in speech the modulated tones 

By myriads lie hid, yet seized by mind ; 

So myriad phantoms — furniture of mind, 

A visionary world — is all around, 

And ever ready, everywhere prepared 

To deck our mental world with imagery ! 

So great their number, and so swift they glide, 

So airy, too, that mind cannot perceive 

But by a close regard — they fade and die, 

But that the mind them gathers to itself, 

Sees what it will, and makes what it perceives. 

For see you not the eye prepare itself 

To see a thing minute ? That e'en the near 

Were as a thing remote, unless the mind 

Attend. What wonder, then, that it should lose 

The throng of phantoms round, attending not ! 

Then from small signs we largest inference draw, 

And, self-deluding, on ourselves impose. 

Sometimes fit image fails to be supplied, 
And visions change their features and their age : 
What was a woman straight becomes a man ; 
The fair the foul, with shifting forms, nor rouse 
Our wonder, sunk in deep, oblivious sleep. 

* Here guard against the folly to believe 
That the bright light of glancing eyes were made 



Book IV. 185 

To see, feet knit to tapering legs to walk, 
Or jointed arms to the broad shoulders hung, 
On either side with ministering hands, 
Were given us to serve the wants of life. 
This to suppose preposterous were and would 
Invert the order of effect and cause ; 
For members were not formed in us for use, 
But, being formed, made for themselves a use ; 
;Nor was there vision before eyes were made, 
-Nor speech before the tongue ; but eyes and tongue 
Came first in order, — as the hearing ear 
Had in creation precedence of sounds — 
Thus all the members were before their use ; 
Hence, not for that grew they to what they are. 
Far different 'tis with things contrived for use. 
With hands and nails fierce fights were waged, and 

limbs 
Were torn, faces with blood defiled, long ere 
The winged arrows flew, or gleamed the spear ; 
Prompt Nature taught how to avoid the blow, 
Long, long before art gave protecting shield. 
The weary body to commit to rest 
Was earlier than the spread of downy beds, 
And thirst assuage before the use of cups. 
'Tis easy to believe that things contrived 
To minister to purposes of life 
Were for their use contrived ; but different far 
With limbs and organs, for they first were mad;;, 
And after came the notion of their use. 



1 86 Tit its Lucretius Cams. 

Preceeding thus, absurd it were to hold 
That they for that created must be deemed. 

It little need surprise that living things 
Seek natural food, by appetite impelled, 
Since atoms flow continuously from all ; 
And most from animals by action roused ; 
Much is expelled through perspirative pores, 
Much by the breath exhaled, as languidly 
They pant. All these the body sap; whence comes 
Exhaustion, and desire of food to prop 
The failing limbs, exhausted strength restore, 
The gnawing tooth of hunger to appease. 
The liquid flow comes grateful to the lips, 
For respiration and the play of life 
All gather heat that lights a fire within ; 
Then comes the cooling draught to cool its rage, 
The feverish thirst allay, gaunt hunger fill, 

And now I tell how limbs we freely move, 
Direct our steps and bear our body's weight, 
Where prompts the will. Attentive mark my words : 
First comes an image and salutes the mind — 
Hence springs the will ; for none begins to do 
Aught but what mind hast first conceived and willed — 
Conceived because an image first was there. 
When thus the mind is roused it wills to move — 
Then vital powers, through joints and limbs diffused, 
Act on the body and propel the frame — 



Book IV. 187 

The body, too, exhilarated feels, 

As the light spirits permeate its pores ; 

Hence moved with twofold force of mind and will, 

As moves the ship with wind-distended sails. 

And wonder not such corpuscules minute 

Can move the body's weight, for see the wind, 

Light subtle minister, drive on the ship 

With all its bulk immense, and the helm guide, 

As lists the governing hand, the rushing mass. 

How sleep reposeful now bedews the limbs 
And smooths the wrinkled cares, I will with few 
But winning words, if so my art avail, 
Unfold ; for sweeter is the swan's low note 
By listening heard than the intrusive cry 
Of cranes importunate, by the winds dispersed. 
Lend thou attentive ears, lest thou deny 
My affirmations as impossible, 
Unconscious that the fault is all thy own. 
Sleep, then, comes on us when the vital powers 
Grow weak along our limbs — in part cast out 
And part subdued, benumbed, retired within. 
Then fail the members, all their powers relaxed — 
Nor doubt the sentient powers depend upon 
The Soul, which, when by sleep o'erpowered, totters 
Upon her seat — not all cast out, else would 
The body sink in death's eternal chill. 
Some latent soul remains concealed within, 
As in the ashes lies the hidden spark, 



1 88 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Whence sense can be relighted in the limbs, 
As springs again to flame the slumbering fire. 

Whence and from what cause this new condition 
comes, 
When Soul grows faint, and languishes the frame, 
I fain would tell — cast not my words to winds — 
First, then, all animals perforce must have 
Their outward frame girt by encasing air, 
Thus beat by many a blow ; hence all have their 
Protective teguments of hairy skin, 
Of filmed feathers, or of mailing shell. 
While the breathed air, as it flows in or out, 
Their parts interior abrading sweeps ; 
By both, the body hurtled, thus and drubbed, 
Come last the blows that, penetrant through pores, 
Reach in their inner seats to primal seeds — 
Then spreads a kind of ruin through the limbs, 
Disrupting vital ties, whereby the soul 
In part cast out, part yields subdued within ; 
Or wanders through the limbs, nor can unite 
In natural functions, offices of life. 
Then fails the sense, inverted vital powers, 
Weak grows the body, languid every limb, 
Down drop the arms, knees bend, and eyelids droop, 
And the lapsed body sinks o'erpowered to earth. 
So heavy slumber on repletion comes, 
Or body worn with toil — for food o'erloads 
The ducts, and labor wears the frame — that more 



Book IV. 189 

The assailed soul then quits her citadel ; 
Or, severed and dispersed, labors within. 

What occupies the mind, on what it most 
Delighted dwells, in dreams will reappear, 
And nightly visions reenact the day : 
Lawyers plead causes and interpret laws ; 
Soldiers new battles fight, and range their fields ; 
With warring winds sailors rude contests wage ; 
While I, the worshipper of Nature, in 
My country's language seek her truths to clothe. 
Thus come illusions of our loved employ 
In dreams, and haunt the chambers of the mind. 
So those who day by day attentive dwell 
Upon theatric shows ; when now the scene 
No longer meets the sight, open remain 
The mental avenues, and phantoms throng 
A shadowy world along accustomed ways ; 
E'en as awake they dancers seem to see 
In timely measures move their floating limbs, 
While liquid sound of harp and speaking strings 
Ring in their ears; the gathered throng they see, 
With all the splendors of the painted scene — 
So vividly is stamped what occupies 
Our waking pleasures and our day's employ; 
Not in men only, but as well in brutes : 
The gallant courser oft in sleep Ave see, 
Profuse of sweat, draw quick his breath, as if, 
Forth darting at the barrier's drop, 



190 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

He would with stiffened sinews for the palm contend — 

The hunter-dog, in sleep unquiet wrapped, 

Twitches his limbs and utters smothered cries ; 

With eager nostrils snuffs the frequent air, 

Or starting follows in a quick pursuit 

The phantom of a deer his fancy sees 

In flight — too soon, alas ! awake, the fond 

Illusion fades, reality returns — 

The faithful watch-dog see light slumbers chase, 

Quick from the earth snatch his reclining limbs, 

At fancied sight of stranger form suspect 

Within the limits of his guarded realm — ■ 

The subject birds seek with a sudden wing 

The dark recesses of the sacred grove, 

If, in light-lidded slumber, fancy sees 

The slaughter-bearing eagle or the hawk, 

Though distant, steer toward them his dreaded flight. 

The minds of men, who under impulse high 
Great deeds perform, repeat the same in sleep — 
Kings play their game of war, are captive led, 
Or, mingled in the fight, shout as they see 
Close at their throat the shadow of a knife ; 
While many struggle with imagined foes, 
And fright the night with groans wrung out by fear ; 
Or utter cries as writhing in the jaws 
Of the fell lion or the savage bear. 
Many, in sleep, from overcharged breast 
Dark mutterings utter, and o'erruled become 



Book IV. 191 

Unconscious witnesses of hidden crime — 

While many suffer all the pangs of death, 

As headlong hurled from lofty precipice, 

Precipitate to earth with crushing fall ; 

And frightened start, snatched by the mind from 

sleep, 
Scarce to themselves return, so shook their frames 
By the fierce tide of apprehensive thought — ■ 
Another thirsting sits, or seems to sit, 
Near flowery slope of gently flowing stream, 
Or fountain's fringed bank, while fancy infinite- 
Drinks in a river with insatiate lips. 

When downy youth, attained its flowery prime, 
By circling years to adolescence comes ; 
New currents flow tumultuous in the veins, 
New ardor glows, unwonted visions come, 
Clothed in new forms of loveliness and grace — 
Love-dyed, presaging joy to raptured eyes, 
Revealing regions of undreamt-of bliss. 
And chief in dreams the phantoms thronging come, 
Fit mates to his desire, decked in allures, 
And call his being forth ; stung with desire, 
How, love impelled, then rushes he to grasp 
The airy foe, whence comes the rapturous wound ; 
In fair encounter joined, maddened, seeks in 
His foe relief, till run the wild career, 
He sinks exhausted in the floods of love ! 



192 Titus Lucretius Canes. 

Thus 'tis the youth, smit with sweet bitter darts 
Of Venus and her boy, from yielding form 
Of budding woman in her flowery prime, 
That moving showers at every gesture love, 
And fills the breathed air with soft desires, 
Thus 'tis the youth, infect with Venus's darts, 
Forth launched from such love-dyed, subduing forms, 
Conquered, submiss, o'erpowered, possessed, borne on 
By such tumultuous tide, yields all his soul 
To melt his being in a fond embrace. 

This, then, is Venus, this the name of love, 
That to the heart distils the honey drops 
Of soft emotions and of fond desires ; 
Soon to be followed by corroding cares. 
Is loved one absent, straight her image comes, 
And her dear name rings constant in his ears ; 
The path she trod is left perfumed with love, 
And all the universe takes from her its hue. 
But fly these visions of an amorous soul ; 
Turn from such food of love, divert the mind 
To other objects of an equal care, 
Nor be a slave to one, nursing fond thoughts, 
But nursing surer care and bitter griefs 
That come attendant on uncurbed desires. 
The mining ulcer lives by being fed, 
Strikes deep its roots within heart's secret folds ; 
And day by day more heavy grows the load, 
If the affections be not turned aside 



Book IV. 193 

To newer proof, the soul unlimed be turned 
To other object of a like desire. 

Nor lacketh he the pure and sacred joys 
Of love, the chaste, who, tempered and restrained, 
Accepts its pleasures, but escapes its pains. 
The mad voluptuary fails of what he seeks ; 
E'en in the moment of a love possessed, 
Wild wander vague desires, uncertain what 
His heart requires, bewildered and oppressed, 
He tearing kisses, wounds the lip he loves — 
Deep diving for a joy that is not pure 
And goaded by insatiable desire, 
That stains the rapture of voluptuous cup. 
For e'en enjoyment cannot quench his rage ; 
The more possessed more ardent burns desire, 
The airy phantom mocks the grasp, and his 
Elusive hope evanishes in air. 
Thinking to quench the flame by plunging in 
Its source ; which ne'er can be — hunger and thirst 
Appeased may be, satiate by food or draught 
Appropriate ; since they some substance bring 
To quench desire ; but lovers feed on air, 
As one who strives in dreams thirst to assuage 
By visionary draughts, his thought eludes ; 
And still he burns, though plunged in rushing stream. 
Thus Venus mocks the lover with a shade, 
Filling the soul, but vagrant to the hope ; 
No art he finds to medicine his ill, 
But pines uncertain with a secret bane. 



194 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

Add to these, torments of a mocked desire ; 
His strength consumed, he mourns his labor lost, 
Holding his life beneath another's beck ; 
Ingulfed his fortune in a flood of debt, 
Duty neglected — reputation dead — - 
While bracelets rare, and gold-set gems adorn 
His mistress' hand ; and the rich, silken robe 
Is frayed and moistened in the sweats of lust ! 
The hard-earned patrimony of a careful sire, 
Turned to rich vestments and to gaudy shows, 
To cups and garland'd feasts, soon melts away, 
In ministrations to a whore's caprice. 
But all in vain to find the joy he seeks. 
E'en from amid the fountain of delights, 
A bitter comes that stings in midst of flowers — 
His stricken soul is gnawed by sharp remorse 
At passing slothful hours, his youth consumed ; 
Or doubtful word by his frail mistress dropped 
Pierces his heart, and burns like secret fire ; 
Hate gendering jealousy comes in place of love ; 
Deeming his charmer is not all his own, 
As casting wand'ring eyes, or, sudden turned, 
Sees in her face trace of inviting smile. 

If such the miseries of rewarded love, 
Unnumbered more wait on rejected suit, 
Open and known to all — then guard betimes 
Your feet from slippery paths, lest, ta'en in snare, 
Your youth should point the moral of my strain. 



Book IV. 195 

Tis not so hard to shun the nets of love, 

As, taken in her toils, the knot to loose. 

Yet the entangled may escape unharmed ; 

Unless they stand a gaoler to themselves, 

And shut their eyes to all their fair's defects. 

This men will do, blinded by mad desire, 

And e'en their faults convert to virtues rare, 

Adorning them with every fancied grace ; — 

And thus the ugly and depraved we see 

Flattered and prized by men like them depraved ; 

While all deride and mock, they hug the chain, 

Smit with a base desire, and dead to shame. 

To their fond eyes black is a rich brunette ; 

The slattern, bears her graces unadorned ; 

Owl-eyed, Minerva is of wisdom rare ; 

The dzvarf, quintessence of all joyous charms ; 

The dry and sinewy, is a light gazelle ; 

The grossly fat, like stately Juno moves ; 

The stammerer lisps, the dumb 's a modest maid ; 

The bold, loud talker, passes for a wit ; 

The lean and haggard, light for lists of love ; 

The pale and hectic, is a lily drooped ; 

The flaunting bosom, Ceres, fit for Jove ; 

Thick lips, a goddess of luxurious kiss. 

Thus moon-struck lovers will their chits adorn, 

With more perversions than my verse can tell : — 

But grant your mistress fair ; that as she moves 

The Cyprian goddess breathes from every limb ; 

There 're are others just as fair ; and without her 



196 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

You happily have lived in all the past. 
She mortal is with frailties endowed, 
And suffers Nature's laws, that oft excite 
In her attendants the derisive sneer. 

The starved lover at the door denied, 
With flowers and garlands decks the portals proud ; 
And sick at heart, plants kisses on the sill, 
Or o'er the threshold pours the rich perfume — 
When, if admitted, no perfume would greet 
The sense ; but airs that breathe, not odors, sooth, 
Would counsel quick retreat ; his low love plaint, 
Long studied with set care, unsaid, he now 
In other tone his folly loud proclaims ; 
In fancying his mistress all . divine, 
And not a mortal with a mortal's lot. 
This know full well the nymphs — and careful hide 
From lovers' eyes the curtained scenes of life, 
When they would hold them in their amorous toils. 
But let them shun the light, adepts in art ; 
Fancy can all portray, and thought can drag 
To light and truth what cunning wiles would hide ; 
E'en they themselves, if open and sincere, 
Will scorn to deal in such thin veiled deceits — 
To others granting what themselves they claim, 
Will yield to what humanity inflicts. 

But let me not gainsay the mysteries 
Of love allowed, nor Nature's law deny, 



Book IV. 197 

That plants her increase in the lap of joy. 
Full oft the woman breathes no feigned flame, 
In close embrace to manly feature joined, 
With lips bedewed, tears kisses by the roots, 
Or languishes o'erpowered with melting joys ; — • 
Not quite all soul — associate pleasures seek, 
To bless her lover bent, be blessed therein. 
Allured by pleasure thus, all beasts and birds, 
Each in its kind, submit them to their mates ; 
By mutual joys and mutual pleasures thus, 
All taken in the snare, and captive led 
By Nature's rite, due plant the coming race. 

Which sex in love's embrace gives most of love, 
Will on the offspring stamp its likeness most ; 
And mingled features of the parents show, 
When both with equal love in love conspire. 
While oft comes back, moulded in finer clay, 
New stamped with life, the voices, features, air, 
Of ancestors remote, uniting thus 
The rising generation with the past. 

No god makes barren e'er the marriage bed, 
Nor child denies to lisp a father's name ; 
As some suppose, who mournful altars stain 
With victim blood, and heap the shrines with gifts, 
To make their wives prolific from their loins. 
Vain they fatigue the gods, besiege the fates, 
With idle vows and prayers, a crown to grant 



198 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Of boys and girls, a bulwark round their age. 
They ne'er can know parental joys, nor see 
The womb enriched with the sweet living growth ;- 
Their union wants fitness of things required ; 
To usher in new life from lives conjoined, 
Must need a harmony toned by Nature's hand. 
Ill-matched, diverse in humors, or in kind, 
Can never join in love, that to the height 
Ascends productive ; for such crown requires 
Harmonious influences, and communion sweet. 
In other unions, if so fate permit, 
They may, though late, such consummation find. 

But not in the tumultuous joys are placed, 
The enduring pleasures of a life of love. 
Without the aid of Venus or her boy, 
Without the aid of any amorous charms, 
Woman, by gentle arts, by manners kind, 
By scrupulous neatness, and complaisant acts, 
Though poor in form, can make herself beloved. 
And knit her husband to her during life. 
It little needs ; habit will grow to love, 
If not perverted to the monster hate. 
Renewed appliances in time prevail, 
However light their blows, and conquest gain, 
As rocks are hollowed by the falling drops. 

END OF BOOK IV. 



BOOK V. 



ORIGIN OF THE WORLD— PROGRESS OF SOCIETY. 

Praise of Epicurus. — World not Eternal — Not Created by Gods for the 
Use of Man. — The World had a Beginning and must have an End. — 
War of Elements. — How the World was formed.— Of the Heavenly- 
Bodies — Their Motions — Magnitudes. — Celestial Phenomena. — 
Causes of Day and Night. — Phases of the Moon. — Procession of the 
Seasons. — Eclipses. — Production of Plants — Animals and Man. — 
Rudeness of Early Life. — Gradual Advance of Culture. — Origin of 
Language. — Progress of Society. — Founding of States. — Violence. — 
Restraint of Laws. — Origin of Religious Rites. — Superstition. — An 
Unseen Power rules Human Affairs. — Of Arts. — Discovery of Metals. 
— Early Warfare. — Garments. — Agriculture. — Music. — Gradual Ad- 
vance of Society. 



BOOK V. 



Who can with ardent genius build a song 
Fit for the majesty of things to us revealed ? 
Who can with words avail, who praises sound 
Equal to his desert, who hath bequeathed 
Such rich rewards to men by genius earned ? 
No one, I deem, with mortal frame endowed. 
Duly to raise the flowing strain to suit 
The acknowledged grandeur of the mighty theme, 
A god — surely a god, illustrious Memmius 'twas 
Who first to man unveiled the rule of life 
That we call Wisdom, and the guide supplied 
From such rude buffetings of a stormy sea, 
From darkness so profound to rescue life, 
And it to haven bring in tranquil seats, 
Bathing its course in such effulgent light. 
Compare with this the other gifts divine, 
In ancient times conferred ; of Ceres, corn ; 
Bacchus, the fruit of the heart-cheering vine ; 
How weak and poor their guise ; since, without them, 
Life might drag on, as now some races live. 
But without wisdom, none can life enjoy. 
Wherefore the more a god he should be deemed 



202 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

Who man with richest gifts endowed, and gave 
That solace sweet of life to cheer the soul. 
Think you, perchance, the Herculean feats excel 
This rich endowment, you would greatly err. 
What harm could come to us from horrid jaws 
Of Nemean lion, or Arcadian bear? 
From Cretan bull, or Lernean hydra, dire 
With hissing serpents, or the dreaded power 
Of the three-headed monster, Geryon called ? 
From Diomedes' horses snorting fire, 
On the Bistonian shores or heights of Ismarus ? 
Or can the birds of fearful wing, that haunt 
Stymphalian marshes, reach to do us harm ? 
Or dragon fierce, serpent of form immense, 
That guards Hcgperian apples — fruit of gold, 
On the Atlantic shores ; the melancholy main 
That not barbarians dare to venture near ! 
Monsters like these by Hercules destroyed, 
If living yet, what could they do to us ? 
Since equal monsters swarm throughout the earth, 
And hills, and woods with fearful sights are filled. 
That harm us not, since we their haunts avoid. 
But to the breast unpurged, what perils, and 
What strife in all despite arise ! What cares, 
What anxious wishes, and what gnawing fears 
Corrode the heart ! What ravages from pride, 
From squalor, lust, from luxury, from sloth ! 
And shall not he who fiends like these subdues, 
And from the breast expels by words, not arms, 



Book V. 203 

Be ranked with the gods ? And all the more 
Since he gave utt'rance divine about the gods, 
And Nature's frame and mysteries revealed. 

His footsteps following, I his theme pursue, 
And teach in verse, if so my art avail, 
What the conditions with which all are formed ; 
How, bound in their necessity, they are 
Powerless to break the binding laws of time ; 
And, since the nature of the Soul is proved, 
Formed of a body that has birth and growth, 
Nor can unscathed through ages long endure; 
That when the dead seem on our sight to rise, 
'Tis phantoms only that deceive the mind, — 
What now remains but in due form to show, 
That the great globe beginning took in time, 
And bears a mortal frame ; tell how it rose, 
How atoms by concurrence the foundations laid 
Of earth and heavens, the sea, the stars, the sun ; 
Tell of all living things that dwell on earth, 
Of fabled ones that dwell but in our dreams ; 
How the first men in various tongues began 
Converse to hold by giving names to things ; 
How fear of gods crept into human hearts, 
And in all lands hath consecrated groves, 
Temples, and fanes, statues, and altars high; 
And next to tell of sun and wandering moon, 
How Nature ruling guides their orbs with power, 



204 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

And shapes their course, lest you perchance should 

think 
Spontaneously they move 'twixt heaven and earth, 
Obsequious in their perennial course, 
Nurture to yield to animals and plants; 
Much less should think them wheeled by the gods. 
E'en those who well have learnt the gods dwell in 
Repose, if not the less with stupid wonder they 
Scan Nature's fabric, seek how all is done 
Above our heads in the ethereal courts, 
Will soon be bound in Superstition's chain, 
Invoking lords severe whom miserably 
They deem all-powerful and supreme, — untaught 
What can exist, what not — the laws by which 
Each has its powers defined by bounds profoundly 

fixed. 

No longer I with promises delay. 
Memmius ! behold the sea, the earth, the heavens, 
Their triple nature, triple form diverse ! 
Though all unlike their structures, still they shall 
Be all alike in one destruction whelmed ! 
E'en the great globe and fabric of the world, 
In harmony upheld through countless years, 
In one dread day shall crumble and dissolve ; — 
Though well I wot the announcement seemeth strange, 
And hard by words alone to win belief; 
As of a thing that bears no ocular proof, 
Nor can subject be made to sense— surest 



Book V. 205 

And straightest way to reach the minds of men — 
Yet will I speak; the dire event may give 
Faith to my words, perchance, and you may see 
The steadfast earth to tremble as with throes ! 
Which far may ruling Fortune ward from us, 
And reason, not the dread event, convince 
That all may sink, in dire destruction whelmed. 

Before I further may reveal these fates, 
More sure than oracles of the Pythian god, 
Receive the words of solace and relief ; 
Lest, bound in Superstition's chain, you think 
The earth, the sea, the sun, the stars, themselves 
Are gods endowed with an immortal frame ! 
For, if they were, rightly you'd deem my crime, 
Equal to that of giants famed of old, 
Who sought the heavens to scale. Equal to theirs 
His crime of pride, whose reasoning seeks to shake, 
The sure foundations of the steadfast world, 
And blot from heaven the all-resplendent sun, 
Calling immortals by a mortal name ! 
But now so far their natures from divine, 
So little worthy to be ranked with gods, 
That they fit instance give of the devoid 
Of vital functions ; for we can't believe, 
Sense and intelligence can all forms invest ; 
As trees not rooted are in air ; as clouds 
Float not in seas, nor fishes live on land ; 
As flows no blood in stocks, no sap in stones ; 



206 Titus Luci'etius Carus. 

Since all exist by necessary laws ; 
Laws fixed determining where each can exist ; 
And thus the Soul can't without body rise, 
Nor can from nerves and blood estranged be ; 
For, if it could, in some part of our frame, 
In head, or foot, or hand, it would be found, 
And where created there would constant be. 
But now we know the Soul invests entire 
The frame corporeal — therein lives and grows. 
How then believe it can exist divorced 
From animated form — in earth or fire, 
In water or in air? How less believe 
Such things as those can be endowed as gods, 
Since not with least vitality endowed ? 

Nor can we more believe the sacred seats 
Of the immortal gods are on the earth ; 
Their natures so refined, removed from sphere 
Of sense so far, and scarcely seized by mind — 
All touch of hands, eluding, and perforce 
Incapable to touch the tangible ; 
For what can't touch cannot itself be touched. 
Thus all unlike to earth the blest abodes, 
As unlike earth the nature of the gods ; 
Which after argument shall more clear unfold. 

To say, moreover, that the frame sublime 
Of nature was upbuilt for man ; that praise 
Is due to gods for work well deemed divine ; 



Book V. 207 

Founded by ancient wisdom, and sustained, 

A dower immortal for the sons of men— 

That impious 'tis such fancies to gainsay, 

With daring words their overthrow proclaim ; 

Such facts to feign, such inference to draw, 

Devising systems vain, is folly's brood. 

What can the blessed and immortal gods 

Advantage gain from gratitude of man ; 

That for his sake they glorious works perform ? 

What could arouse them in their age of bliss, 

Or what compel precedent life to change ? 

They joy in change whom present things annoy ; 

But those to whom no want or wish can come, 

How could the love of novelty excite ? 

Or must we think all life in darkness lay, 

And gloom, till birth of things ; till burst of light 

Came on creation at Earth's natal day ? 

But what the harm if we had ne'er been born ? 

The love of life the living may impel, 

By promised joys, life while they may to clutch ; 

But unto him who ne'er hath tasted life, 

Of what import that he was never born ; 

Or how grieve he, debarred he knows not what ? 

Where was the exemplar for created things ? 

Where the ideal man present to gods' 

Conception, shadowing forth existence new, 

As thing desired and for creation fit? 

How could the power of elements be known, 

And what their varying orders could effect, 



208 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Had not great Nature, at a random stroke 

Gave specimen, and showed what could be ? 

Nor wondrous this, that atoms infinite, 

By shocks innumerous, through unending time, 

And endless impulse, wrought on and vexed, 

In every mode excited to cohere, 

All possible assemblages essayed, 

Should fall at last to order and a plan ; 

And thus the fabric of the world be hit, 

Creation's form disclosed, order began, 

And still maintained by innate plastic power. 

And though I ignorant were of elements, 
Or how their working could give birth to things, 
Yet this I dare affirm, from reasons drawn 
From heavens above and human things below : 
Nature was not divinely formed for us, 
So full of imperfections and defects ! 
For see, of all the cope of heaven beneath, 
Mountains and haunts of beasts great part possess ; 
Vast rocks, and marshes, waste, and ocean's main, 
Wide-stretched 'twixt narrow lands ; while parching 

heat 
And frost eternal bars two parts from man. 
Of what remains, Nature's spontaneous powers 
Would soon with brambles overspread, didn't man, 
With spade and sock incessant plied, and sweat of 

brow, 
For sheer subsistence her wild strength subdue. 



Book V. 209 

And groaned he not beneath the ponderous plough, 
To break with iron share the stubborn glebe ; 
No fertile field would wave, no plant would raise 
Its tender stem corn-bearing to the light. 
And now, when oft, by labor huge hard earned, 
They lift their foodful heads, and blooms the earth, 
The untempered sun scorches with ardent rays, 
Or floods o'erwhelm, or nips the searing frost 
Their leafy honors, or the tempest rends. 
Again, why rears and ripens Nature savage beasts, 
Dread enemies to man ? Why comes each change 
Of season laden with disease ? Why death 
Untimely stalk where life has just begun ? 

See too the child Nature by cruel throes 
Projects from the maternal womb — 
Naked and void of speech, like shipwrecked sailor 

thrown 
By savage waves upon a hostile shore ; 
In want of every aid the thin-drawn thread 
Of life to save, upon the ground it lies ; 
Its feeble breath, a faint but sole resource, 
Fills all the place around with mournful cries, 
As well it may, presaging what's to come, 
Thus thrust upon life's heritage of ill ! 
To such faint dawnings of uncertain life 
Compared, how vigorous spring the young of beasts ! 
No need to them the cradle's lull ; the soft 
Lisped words of nurse to soothe their early ills ! 

14 



210 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

They seek no garments 'gainst the roughened air ; 
No need to them of arms or bastioned walls 
For guard ; Daedalian Earth for them all things, 
And Nature boon, in amplest store supplies. 

Now, to resume my theme ; since we have seen 
Earth, water, fire, and the light breath of air, 
Composing the great universe of things, 
Made up of bodies that are born and die ; 
Such we must hold the nature of the world ; 
For well we know when injury can assail 
The parts, the whole is to destruction doomed ; 
And, seeing the wide universe's limbs 
Made up of parts now lapsing, now restored, 
We well may know to Heavens and to Earth, 
As came their natal, must their dying day 
In due succession come, — as born must die. 

And deem it not assumption to assert 
That fire and earth, that water and the air 
Can sink as perished, and rise reproduced ; 
For see you not parts of the Earth scorched by 
The sun's perpetual rays, to powder ground 
By passing feet, in clouds of dust arise ; 
That through the air prevailing winds disperse ? 
Parts of the solid glebe are swept away 
By inundating rains ; by rains rivers 
Rapacious made mine and corrode their banks — 
Besides, what feeds another must itself be fed, 



Book V. 211 

And wasting here recuperate elsewhere. 
And thus the universal parent, Earth, 
Is of all things the universal tomb. 

That seas, fountains, and streams are ever fed 
With a perpetual flow of liquid stores, 
What need of proof? The mighty rush unchecked 
Of waters down, on every side declare ; 
But silent flow from surfaces forbid 
The sea to overflow ; part in her waves 
Winds passing dip their wings and light disperse; 
The sun ethereal with his brooding rays 
Sucks up a part in vaporous clouds and mist; 
And their moist burden, wafted by the winds, 
Wide waters every land with fertile showers, 
Returning liquid stores to fountain heads. 
Part under Earth flows in sweet secret path 
With limpid foot where opening path is found — 
Whence gurgling springs, in silver threads well forth. 

And now I tell how the great ocean, Air, 
Suffers incessant change ; for all that flows 
From things her gulf receives, and this again 
To them restores — renewing wasted things; 
Else all ere this had been convert to Air. 
And since the Great Whole is in continual flow, 
Air, fed from all, to all in turn restores. 

Fountain of light, the sun's ethereal stream 



212 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Irradiates heaven with fresh dazzling floods, 
In ceaseless flow continuously renewed ; 
For where the gleaming splendor falls — it dies. 
As when thick clouds steal o'er his lucent orb 
The ardent rays are quenched, the gleam below 
Is lost, where'er the veiling cloud is borne. 
Thus perishes the light as fast as sowed. 
Nor could the Sun illuminate the Earth, 
But that his fount supplies perpetual streams. 
Thus, too, terrestrial lights — our nightly lamps, 
The hanging lustre, and the beaming torch 
Bituminous, by burning ministry 
Supply new light, still flowing, still renewed. 
The tremulous rays no intermission know ; 
But the bright ardor, hasting from its fires, 
Brings quick destruction to the flaming fount. 
So, too, regard the sun, the moon, the stars, 
Dispensing light, by birth continuous, 
And losing something ever as they shine, 
Cannot inviolable being boast. 

And see we not the rocks subdued by age 
Crumble and waste, the lofty towers decay, 
The sacred temples gape in chinks, and fall ; 
Nor can their sanctity avert their fate, 
Nor fight against inexorable laws. 
The monuments of the dead yield like the rest 
To gradual decay ; or, worn with age, 
Drop into ruin with a quick overthrow ; 



Book V. 213 

The rocks from mountain heights come riven down ; 
Nor can endure unscathed assaulting age ; 
But like the rest, yield to resistless laws 
Of time, that limits all ; nor would they thus 
Come down shattered and rent, had they endured 
Scathless and free, through long eternity, 
The gnawing tooth — the mining fret of time. 

See the great cope of Heaven spread above, 
The broad Earth holding in a wide embrace — 
Which, as some tell, produces all, and them 
When dead receives, — itself must mortal be ; 
For know — what feeds another must in feeding waste, 
And what is fed must from that wasting grow. 

Again, if Heaven and Earth eternal were, 
Nor knew creation's day, why then before 
The Theban wars and fall of Troy were not 
Other events by other poets sung ? 
How in oblivion sunk so many deeds 
Of mighty men by poets unrenowned, 
Nor flourished, grafted in the rolls of fame ? 
Truly, I think the world began to-day, 
Nor took its birth in ages far remote ! 
Since 'tis but now that many arts begin 
To rise and flourish in their perfect prime ; 
But now new wings doth Navigation take, 
And Music wake to new melodious strains ; 
And this Philosophy of Nature is 



214 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

But now unveiled, and I among the first 

To clothe its accents in our country's tongue ! 

Think you, perchance, things were of old as now ? 

That former races — denizens of Earth — 

Have perished all, in floods of fire consumed ? 

That cities vast have sunk, the world convulsed ! 

Or floods of rain on rain, incessant poured, 

Have sent rapacious rivers through the Earth, 

That fathom deep have buried walled towns ? 

So much the rather, then, believe the Fates 

Portend destruction to the Earth that is. 

For when all things by such assaults are tried, 

When some more rude assails, they needs must sink 

In ruins vast, and wide destruction spread. 

By inference like alone we mortal know 

Ourselves among the mortal placed, struck with 

The same disease as those we daily see, 

By Nature summoned from the shores of life ! 

Besides, whatever is eternal needs must be 
Of solid body to resist all blows, 
Nor penetration suffer, to dissolve 
Its parts well-knit — like atoms, as I've showed ; 
Or like the Void eternal, since it is 
Exempt from blows — as all impalpable ; 
Or like the Great Whole, eternal, since there is 
No outward place where it may leap apart; 
And naught without to deal destructive blows. 
But since the world not solid is, nor void, 



Book V. 215 

Nor lacks infinity of outward foes, 

Which, rushing might o'erwhelm ; nor lacks there 

place, — 
The waste, drear womb of night, its ruins vast 
To swallow and ingulf, — sure, for the Earth, 
The Sun, the Sea, wide yawn the gates of death ! 
Hence, needs confess, the World beginning had, 
Nor could the mortal, for an endless age 
Despise the assaults of all-consuming time. 

Again, since elements wage eternal war, 
Some term must to the long-fought contest come ; 
When Fire would triumph over Water shrunk, 
As still it strives to do, but strives in vain. 
The abounding rivers pour such ample floods 
As if to ingulf the world in one wide sea. 
Winds, mist dispersing, curb the water floods, 
And brooding rays of the exulting sun 
Bridle the rage of the usurping sea ; 
And sooner thinks to parch the Earth with drought, 
Than that the ocean shall o'ertop her bounds, 
Or spread beyond her limitary shores. 
Thus these great champions with balanced power, 
And breathing war, strive for the mastery, 
Contending for the Universe at stake ! 
And, once they say, Fire reigned supreme on Earth ; 
And Water once prevailed ; when high above 
The topmost hills the wasting deluge came. 
Fire triumphed once ; and burnt the fields adust 



2i6 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

When the ungoverned coursers of the sun 
Whirled Phaeton devious through the plains of air, 
Threatening -with fiery deluge all the lands ; 
Had not the omnipotent Father, in his wrath, 
With sudden bolt struck from the flaming car 
Presumptuous charioteer, and turned the steeds 
From Earth ; o'er the late nodding World again 
Hung up the Sun's eternal lamp ; again 
Reyoked the trembling steeds, and guiding in 
Their path ordained, order restored to all. 
As the old Grecian poets sung — fabling — 
But under fable shadowing truth, perchance. 

Fire might prevail, were all its elements 
Assembled from the deep ; but prisoned there, 
Hemmed in by other powers, it knows restraint ; 
Else, long ere this, the raging element 
Had in a fiery furnace all consumed, 
And made the Universe a funeral pile ! 
The Waters gathering once took head o'er all, 
As sure traditions of the nations tell, 
And buried cities, — till opposing powers, 
Sealing the fountains of the watery deep, 
Shut up the sluices, and the tides withdrew, — 
And, rains restrained, the rivers gentler flowed. 

And now I tell how mass of matter wrought, 
To found the Earth, the heavens, and the sea, 
The sun, and moon, and gave them paths on high. 



Book V. 217 

For sure, not by design the elements 

Took order, marshalled by sagacious mind, 

That preordained what motions each should have. 

But atoms infinite for unmeasured time, 

Wrought on and vexed by impulses and weight, 

In every mode excited to cohere, 

All possible assemblages essayed, 

And every motion, combination tried, 

They fell at length on those that could endure — 

Thus rose the first faint outlines of the world, 

The earth and sea, the heavens and living tribes — 

Beginnings rude — for then was nowhere seen 

The chariot of the sun rolling on high ; 

Nor the great orbs of heaven ; nor land, nor sea, 

Nor aught like things of time — our present frame. 

Unwonted tempest then on chaos wrought, 

And, Discord ruling, atoms battle joined, 

Of acts, collisions, weights, affinities, 

From forms dissimilar, and discordant powers — 

Turmoil from whence no unions permanent 

Could come of seeds, nor they in movements join 

Harmonious. Soon order empire claimed. 

Parts to fit places fly — like joined to like. 

Great Nature's members outline took, and place, 

And gradual thus the Universe disclosed. 

Then soon the Heavens disparted were from Earth ; 

The girded Sea was gathered to its place, 

And high o'er all the robe of Ether thrown. 



218 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

First earthy atoms, heavy and involved, 
Cohered, and in capacious womb prepared, 
Took lowest seat ; the more compressed, the more 
Exuded thence light elements and round, 
That rising formed the sun, the moon, the stars, 
And all the exulting furniture of heaven. 
Thus the sign-bearing Ether, welling forth 
From crude consistence of the leaden earth, 
Light bore above, and decked itself with stars ; 
As oft we see, when matinal light of day 
Pours golden blushes o'er the jewelled grass, 
Lakes and the running streams vapors exhale 
And Earth sends up a mist that, rising, is 
Condensed, and clothes the firmament with clouds ; 
And thus the light-diffusive Ether rose, 
Concreted form — that round, o'er-arching spread, 
And girded all things in a wide embrace. 
Then, in due order, rose the sun and moon, 
And wheeled their orbs 'twixt heaven and Earth 

sublime 
In the mid air ; of atoms, they composed, 
Which neither Earth could claim, nor Ether vast ; 
Not heavy so to sink, nor light to glide 
With silent foot through Ether's brighter plains, 
But between both as living bodies move, 
And parts co-ordinant of the mighty Whole. 

These lighter parts withdrawn, sudden the Earth 
Sank in vast hollows — into gulfs profound — 
Bed of the briny sea, where ocean spreads 



Book V. 219 

Wide his cerulean plains ; and, day by day, 

The more the earth, swept by the incumbent tide 

Of Ether, and the sun's compressing rays, 

Compacted to a mass, to centre settled ; 

The more the briny sweat forth exudant, 

Swelled with its flow the ocean's liquid stores ; 

While heat and air escaping from the gross 

Rose light, and high 'bove Earth, concreting spread 

The lofty, radiant temples of the sky ; 

Down sank the vales, the lofty mountains rose, 

Their rocky ribs resisting, till their tops 

Stood up in peaks, wide looking o'er the plains. 

Thus founded was the Earth — a solid core, 
Stable by weight ; the grosser parts sunk down 
Like lees, subsiding to their place below. 
Thus sea, and air, and Ether-bearing fires 
Rose pure and liquid all, but lighter some. 
Lightest and purest, Ether bears itself 
Above the aerial tides ; nor mingles its 
Pure essence with the gusty breath of air; 
But leaves it far below with whirlwinds vexed, 
Made foul with tempests ; while all pure above 
Gliding, it bears in tranquil course, the stars 
Still onward with an eventide, and, like 
The Pontic sea, knows no retiring ebb. 

And now to tell the motion of the stars ; 
Whether the orb of heaven itself be turned, 



220 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Pressed on both sides by air — pressed and compelled 

By fierce, opposing currents, that while one 

Bears on in ceaseless course the eternal fires, 

With radiant ministry, another opposite, 

Sticking beneath, may roll the sphere obverse, 

As running rivers turn hydraulic wheels. 

Whether, again, the firmament be fixed, 

And yet the lucent orbs be onward borne 

In rapid vortices of ether caught, 

That ever rolling bears the stars along, 

Or from afar, with rushing tide, impels ; 

Or, whether yet, instinctive they can glide 

Where'er ethereal food invites their way, 

Feeding through azure fields their radiant spheres ! 

Which in this orb prevails, 'twere hard to tell ! 

I aim to teach the probable — or what 

May haply rule somewhere in varied worlds ; 

Not what is sure, admitting no appeal. 

Of many causes possible alike, 

One must prevail, and varied motions give 

To all the gliding signs ; but which of all 

Rules in our narrow sphere, who cautious treads, 

With groping hands, seeks doubtful for the truth, 

Will not assume decisive to declare. 

That Earth in centre of the Universe 
May fixed rest, befits it weight below, 
Must fail, decreasing, and another Nature take — 
From earliest age, Earth's lower parts adapt, 



Book V. 22 T 

Joined and reposing on the yielding air, 

There seated rests, nor loads it with her weight. 

As limbs are not a burden to the man, 

Nor heavy weighs the head upon the neck, 

Nor feel the feet, the body, as a load, 

But what is foreign though much less in weight, 

Oppresses and offends ; so much imports 

Accustomed functions, and accordant powers ; 

For sure the earth was not on sudden brought 

To foreign shore, cast on an alien sea; 

But part in first conception of the Whole, 

At early origin co-ordinate rose 

Part of the Whole, as limbs are of the man. 

And thus the earth shakes with the thunder-stroke 

Which would not be unless 'twere closely bound 

To the aerial dome ; formed not apart, 

But in creation's earliest dawn both sprung 

From common cause, and so harmonious joined, 

As airy soul to heavy body joined 

Gives bounding motion and controls the whole, 

So the dull earth joined to the subtle air, 

From its light essence life and vigor takes. 

No greater is the sun, nor less its orb 
Than to the sight appears. For howe'er far 
Fires gleaming dart their light, or breathe their heat, 
The distance little flame or size impairs 
Or minishes their semblance ; thus the sun, 
That prodigally showers both light and heat, 



222 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

In shape and size must be what it appears : — 
Whether pale, looking from her seat, the moon 
Shines with her own, or with a borrowed light, 
No greater is it than to sight appears ; 
For all that far removed, through air is seen, 
Ere they lose size, confused and blurred appear 
In shape and outline ; while the lustrous moon 
Shows a sharp limit, and clear boundary line ; 
Hence, how great 'tis ! so great it looks on high. 
And as terrestrial lights when burning clear, 
Their brilliancy is seen, little change size 
By nearness or remoteness ; so the stars, 
Celestial lights, by inference just conclude 
Are little less or greater than appear. 

And little wonder need it now excite, 
How sun so small can light so great emit ! 
Baptizing sea and land in radiant floods, 
The wide world deluging with ardent heat, 
And lustrous beams ; since it may be, .perchance, 
The sun the sole o'erflowing fountain is 
Whence light and heat well forth ; that to its orb 
All luminous and igneous atoms flow, 
And from that fountain-head pour forth their streams. 
For see you not how a small gushing spring 
With moist redundance waters wide the mead ! 
Or it may be the sun, celestial spark, 
Diminutive, circumfluous air may fire. 
If air there be lying exposed, and fit 



Book V. 22, 

The burning ardor to receive, and spread ; 

As from a spark oft stubble-fields take fire, 

And wide around the conflagration spread. 

Or yet, perchance, the sun, bright roseate lamp, 

Holds secret stores of hidden fire around 

His fulgent head, that darksome lie, but fraught 

With heat add ardor to his glancing rays. 

Nor is it clear by what unvarying law 
The sun from burning regions of the Goat 
Averted, sweeps his wintry course, and then 
Turns to the Crab's solstitial goal again ! 
Or why the moon, in monthly course surveys 
The regions traversed by the annual sun. 
Who the sure cause of such perplexity 
Will venture to assert ? 'mongst man}' - take 
The well-weighed thought of Democritus sage ; 
That nearer as the orbs their courses wheel, 
So much the less they 're onward borne above, 
By the celestial sphere; the lower still 
Less rapid borne than are the upper orbs. 
The stars thus leave the lower orbs behind, 
As placed so much beneath the radiant signs; 
And chief the moon, dipt in a lower sphere, 
Borne in gyrations of a languid power, 
So much the less can hold her pace with stars ; 
That, gliding swift, her tardy form o'ertake, 
And pass beyond again to overtake, 
And thus to her apparent swiftness lend. 



224 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Or it may be the air from parts transverse, 

Alternate flowing at appointed times, 

Shoulders the sun from the solstitial signs, 

To wintry regions ; and reverted thence, 

Turns it from regions of the northern frore 

To fervid heats of the distempered south. 

So may the moon and stars, revolving in 

Great orbits of great years, by airs diverse, 

Alternate pass to quarters opposite. 

For see you not the trailing clouds above, 

Borne in an adverse tide to clouds below, 

By gusty currents of opponent winds ? 

Then why should not great Ether's greater tides, 

With diverse currents bear the gliding stars ! 

And now the night with darkness palls the earth- 
Whether the sun accomplished long career, 
Rests on the outer battlements of heaven, 
And there allays his languid fires by the 
Long way exhaust, swept by vast tracts of air, 
Or the compulsive course impels his way 
Beneath the Earth that bore his orb above ; 
Till in set time the goddess of the morn, 
Blushing Aurora, brings through Ether's courts, 
And strews her path with light ; whether it be 
The self-same sun returning under Earth 
With his vaunt couriers paves a way in heaven, 
As his fleet rays anticipate the sky, 
And redden his advance ; or, whether seeds 



Book V. 225 

Of heat dispersed fit seasons known collect, 

Engendering new lustre for a sun ; 

As on the Idean mount 'tis famed they see 

At early dawn, the scattered fires unite, 

And thus englobed the sun's full orb complete. 

Nor deem it wond'rous that seeds of heat 
Can in set time unite, and thus repair 
The sun's effulgence ! since in Nature much 
We see at its appointed season come. 
The woods put on their verdure at set time, 
And at set time their full luxuriance shed. 
Imperious time rules o'er the growing youth ; 
At season fixed, unseats his milky teeth, 
Clothes with pubescent down his tender cheek 
Till, by degrees, the flowing beard descends. 
Lightnings, and snow, rain, and wind-bearing clouds 
Do not, capricious, at all seasons come, 
But wait obedient on pre'stablished laws. 
Such in their origin all causes were, 
So in the dawn of Things, the Universe 
Took its departure from a primal source 
That Nature followed in an order fixed. 

The days and nights alternate wax and wane, — 
Whether the sun above — below the Earth 
Careering, in unequal parts divides 
The circled orbs, and taking from the one, 
Gives to the other more than to it due. 
15 



226 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Till he return to that celestial sign, 

Where the year's node makes equal day and night 

In his mid-course ; when equal his remove 

From north and south, where his zodiacal path 

With just obliquity cuts the starry sphere ; 

The which, he climbing slow, walks annual through 

With rays oblique, surveying earth and heaven — - 

As shows their apt device who map the sky, 

Adorned with signs and constellations fit. 

Or denser is the air in certain parts, 

That under Earth the trembling radiance lags, 

And to his rising- comes with lingering steps ; 

Weary and long, thus making winter nights, 

And slow advance the ensign of the day. 

Or in alternate parts, or quick or slow 

The fires collect on the horizon's verge, 

Accomplishing the sun for day's career. 

The Moon may shine, bathed in the solar beams, 
And daily more to us her luminous face 
May turn, as farther from the sun, till in 
The opposing heaven full-orbed she shine, and the 
Her rising waits upon his setting beams; 
Thence, gradual backward turned, withdraws her lij 
Nearing the sun, gliding through opposite signs — 
As they conceive who make the moon a globe, 
Whose circuit wheels beneath the circling sun — 
Or it may be she shines with proper light, 
And owes to varied cause her changeful form. 



Book V. 227 

A dark attendant, waiting on her path, 

May veil in varied ways her lucent orb, — 

Or she herself may roll a globe half dark, 

And half illumined with the lustrous light, 

And, turning, changeful forms of brightness show : 

Now full-orbed shining in her radiant sphere, 

Now gradual waned, her regions bright withdrawn, — 

As Babylonian science of the Chaldees held, 

Contending 'gainst the Greek astronomy. 

But why may not each maintaining be true ? 

Why, boldly confident, affirm the one, 

When th' other equally may reflect the truth ? 

Or what forbids a new moon to arise, 

Which day by day may grow ? Sure this were hard 

By reasoning to disprove, when all around 

So much we see in fixed procession move. 

Forth comes the Spring, with Venus and her train ; 

The winged Zephyrs, precursors of Spring, 

Fanning her pathway come ; close on their steps 

The goddess mother Flora from her hands 

Sheds flowers upon their path, enriching earth 

With choicest odors and resplendent dyes ; 

Soon follows heat, and dusty Ceres comes, 

With rustling wave of the thick-bearded corn, 

And the hot breath of the Etesian gales ; 

Then Autumn drops, and vine-clad Bacchus brings ; 

Distempered skies succeed, and gusty blasts, 

Volturnus growling hoarse, and Auster fierce, 

With lightnings fraught, while Boreas brings his storms ; 



228 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Decrepit Winter soon creeps up the North, 

Howling and chill, and in his train brings Ice 

And Sleet and Snow and Frost with chattering teeth. 

Since thus the seasons in due order move, 

So much the wonder less that a new moon 

May at appointed time take birth on high, 

Grow full, then fade, by due degrees effaced ! 

The sun's eclipse, the hidings of the moon, 
To many causes we may well ascribe ; 
For if the moon can veil the sun, to his 
Bright luminous orb opposing her opaque ; 
We well may deem some body void of light 
Gliding between may dark her silver orb ; 
Or to the languid sun at times may fail 
His fires, and then revive, escaping from 
Celestial regions to his light adverse. 
And why may not earth in turn despoil the moon, 
Herself opposing to the oppressed sun, 
While, through the long cone of the darkened shade, 
She in her monthly course glides laboring on ? 
Or other body dark, invisible, 
Coming between, may clip his profluent beams; 
Or, shining with her own, her gleam may fade, 
When wandering on the shores hostile to light. 

What now remains, since thus I have resolved 
How all is done in the celestial plains, 
And we may know what cause and power prescribes 



Book V. 229 

Sun's varied course, the wanderings of the moon, 

How, overcome by envious shades, they oft 

In darkness unattended veil the skies, 

Their bright eye closed, — how soon escaped therefrom 

And unimpaired they new effulgence shed ? 

---Now I return to the young Earth's young prime, 

When her soft bosom and prolific womb 

With genial influence swelled, and she put forth 

Her early offspring to the inconstant air. 

First, Earth around on hill and every plain 

Invested verdant robe of herbs and grass, 

And flowery meadows glowed with brilliant dyes ; 

The trees in rivalling growth, high-lifted heads, 

With waving verdure clothed the rugged hills ; 

While humbler in their shade came forth the ranks 

Of herbs and shrubs and plants of every growth. 

Then she created all the living tribes, 

In various ways each to its place adapt : 

For animals dropped not from heaven to earth, 

Nor came they forth from salt waves of the sea, 

But sprung from Earth — to Earth we justly give 

The name maternal, since all sprung from her, 

That now innumerous swarm on hills and plains 

From moisture sprung and fecundating heat ; 

Hence less the wonder if more thronged they stood, 

And stronger in the Earth's and Ether's prime. 

First, in the spring the callow young of birds, 

Their frail envelopes chipped, embark on life ; 



230 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

As the shrill grasshoppers in summer time, 

Their fragile tunics cast, free wander at 

Their wills, food and a higher life to seek ; — 

Then Earth first showed races of mortal men, 

When warmth and moisture brooded o'er her plains ; 

And, where each region gave propitious place, 

They sprung from roots deep in her teeming womb ; 

Till soon the infant embryos matured, 

Escaping from the dank, sought air and light ; 

The fostering Earth, her pores prolific swelled, 

Poured from her veins the milky nutriment ; 

Like to a woman with the womb enriched, 

With the sweet burden of a life begun, 

Her breasts o'erflow with the precursive milk, 

Nor waits the inarticulate appeal 

Of early cry more eloquent than words. 

Thus Earth to her sons gave food, for garments gave 

The warm and wooing air, and downy grass 

In a thick fleece, supplied their couch prepared ; 

For in the world's young day, no biting cold, 

No ardent heat prevailed, nor raging winds ; 

All things on Nature's breast together hung, 

In infant weakness all together grew 

By gradual increase and progression slow. 

Wherefore the Earth is well maternal called, 
Since she created man, — and at due time 
Poured forth all beasts that range in woods and 
wilds. 



Book V. 231 

And all the birds that varied fan the air. 
Term came at last to her prolific powers, 
Like to a woman now by age effete, 
Time changes all the nature of the world ; 
And one condition from another flows, — 
For now the earth no longer can produce 
What once it could, and can what it could not — 
Progressive all, none like itself remains, 
The turning wheel compelleth all to turn — 
As one decays and languishes with age, 
Another grows and narrow limits bursts. 

Then 'twas the Earth portentous monsters formed, 
Or strove to form, with fearful look and limb. 
Some without feet, part without hands appeared ; 
Part wrapped in darkness without face or eyes, 
Or body bound w T ith close-adhering limbs ; 
To dull inaction doomed, powerless to move, 
To shun the harmful or to seek the good. 
Many such monsters rose, portentous, vain ; 
For Nature snatched from them, abhorrent, all 
Increase, nor could they find food sustenant, 
To reach matured age, nor join in love ; 
For many things harmonious must conspire, 
That propagation may prolong a race — 
First genial food, then mutual charms of sex, 
To knit the diverse in the joys of love. 

How must have perished then unnumbered tribes 



232 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Of animals that rose to light and sunk, 

Unable to transmit life to their race, 

Or e'en their own ill-sorted lives to save ; — 

For all we see breathing the vital air, 

With wiles or strength or fleetness is endowed, 

From earliest, to these their safety owe ; 

While some, from their utility to man, 

Remain committed to his guardian care. 

The lion fierce by strength securely lives, 

The fox by wiles, by his swift foot the deer; 

The faithful dog, light-slumbering and alert, 

The generous steed, the patient, laboring ox, 

The clustering flocks of the wool-bearing folds, 

All live entrusted to man's guardian care ; 

Instinctively they fly all beasts of prey, 

And, just return for what to man they bring, 

They find in him their providence and peace. 

But those to whom harsh Nature has denied 

Commending qualities rewarding care, 

Nor in themselves can their protection find, 

Why should they owe security to man ! 

Fast bound in chains of fate, exposed they lie 

To all a prey, and bear a fearful life, 

Till their vexed race in blank extinction drops. 

But fabled Centaurs never could exist, 
With double nature of a man and horse ; 
Since members so diverse could never join 
In acts harmonious, as well all may know ; 



Book V. 233 

For see the mettled steed, attained his prime 

With three revolving years, exulting bear 

His strength, the while the child oft in his sleep 

Solicits with faint motion of the lips 

The milky fountains of his mother's breast. 

But when with age the horse's rugged strength, 

And well-strung limbs fail with declining years, 

The stripling youth attains his flowery prime, 

And clothes his tender cheek with manly down. 

Then deem not Centaurs can be formed perverse, 

Conjoint of man and burden-bearing horse, 

Or Scylla at the waist with sea-dogs girt, 

Or any such portentous forms could rise, 

By monstrous joining of discordant limbs ; 

That neither grow together, nor decays 

Their strength, together with advance of years ; 

Diverse of manners, appetites unlike, 

Unfit to join in pleasure or in pain. 

When flames are wont as quickly to consume 

The lion's bulk as other blood or bones, 

How could there e'er a triple body be- — 

A lion's front, the middle of a goat, 

Joined to a dragon's tail— chimera dire, 

Forth breathing from his jaws devouring flame. 

But those who feign such animals could be 
Reared in the freshness of the recent earth, 
Relying on the empty name of youth, 
As potent to produce what now 's not seen, 



234 Titus Lucretius Cants. 

Will garrulous prate of many marvels more ; 

When, as they say, golden the rivers ran 

Through many a waving plain, and shrubs were wont 

For swelling buds rich glowing gems to bear ; 

And men were formed with strength of limb to pass 

At ample stride the deep bed of the sea, 

And turn the circling heavens with their hands ; 

Though in the freshness of the new-sprung Earth, 

When first she ushered forth her animals, 

Innumerous seeds hid in teeming breast, 

She gave no signs of such creations mixed. 

For see, all plants that flourish of all kinds, 

The towering trees, grasses, and flowering shrubs, 

Grow not with stems involved and mixed, but all 

By a sure law Nature's distinctions keep. 

More rugged then were men in every field, 
Rugged as fit, sprung from the rugged Earth. 
Framed, too, and founded with more solid bones, 
Of ampler size, with tougher sinews knit, 
Not easily to yield to heat or cold, 
To changing seasons, or to fell disease, 
To hard subsistence, or corporeal ills. 
For many lustres of the circling sun, 
A wandering life they led akin to brutes. 
No brawny arm knew then to guide the plough, 
Skilled well with iron to subdue the field ; 
No hand was taught to train the trailing vine, 
Or plant young saplings in a glebe prepared, 



Book V. 235 

Or curb with pruning-hooks redundant shoots— 
But what nutritious gave the sun and showers 
What Earth spontaneous reared were gifts enough 
To fill their modest wants ; brown acorns then, 
And purple haws that winter blushing shows, 
Subsistence gave to rude, unpampered tastes. 
Fresh springs invited to allay their thirst, 
As now 'mid lofty hills the waterfalls 
Call with loud voice the thirsty troops from far. 
Then, wandering, they .the woodland temples held. 
Haunts of the woodland nymphs — the well-known 

haunts 
From whence they knew flowed gliding, silver streams, 
Bathing with ample flow the humid rocks, 
Distilling water from their coats of moss, 
And thence escaped soft murmuring through the plain. 

Nor knew they yet how to subdue by fire 
Tough-veined metals, or to clothe themselves 
With shaggy spoils from beasts ; but men unclad 
Wandered in woods and hollow hills, or in 
Protecting thickets hid their squalid limbs, 
A shelter seeking from the wind and rain. 
No cognizance had they of common weal, 
Nor knew the guardian providence of laws. 
What fortune gave to each he took at will — 
At will alone, instructed how to live. 
Then love united lovers in the woods — 
Together drawn by mutual allures. 



236 Titus Lucretius Cartes. 

Or headlong violence of lust in man 
Prevailed o'er woman ; or he favors bought 
With tempting prize of nuts, or pears select. 

Then hardy men, trusting to marvellous skill 
Of foot or hand, pursued the forest tribes 
With missile weapons, or with massive clubs. 
Many subdued, in coverts hid from some. 
Then like to bristled boars their rugged limbs 
At night for rest they naked laid on earth 
Where night o'ertook, or sought their leafy lair. 
Not terror-stricken, wandering through the night, 
Seeking with loud lament the sun withdrawn, 
But silent, sunk to sleep, waited the morn, 
Till sun with rosy torch relumined heaven. 
From early years accustomed to perceive, 
Light darkness chasing — darkness chasing light, 
'Twas not for them to wonder or distrust 
Lest, lost the sun, night should eternal reign. 
But rather 'twas to fear lest savage beasts 
Should deadly make their sleep ; oft miserably 
In fearful haste they fled their rocky tents 
At rude intrusion of a bristled boar, 
Or lion fierce, —compelled in night to leave 
Their leaf-strown couches to a savage guest. 

Not more nor less than now, the tribes of men, 
Left then the precincts of swift-gliding life. 
Though sometimes then one caught in savage jaws 



Book V. 237 

A palpitating food, filled woods and hills 

With shrieks and loud laments at horrid sight, 

Of living buried in a living tomb. 

While some escaped with mutilated limbs, 

Held trembling hands o'er lacerated wounds, 

And death invoked with terror-stricken cries ; 

Till void of help — the healing art unknown, 

Foul worms at length their lingering life released. 

Xot then, howe'er, one day destruction brought 

To thousands marching in the ranks of war. 

Xot then the raging sea on savage rocks 

Dashed ruthless, ships and freight of living men ; 

Idly then raged the waves' collected might, 

And sunk without a prey their dreaded crests ; 

Xot all the allurements of the placid sea 

Could then entice men with her rippling smile, 

Presumptuous to trust her watery ways, 

And hidden lay mad navigation's art. 

Gaunt hunger then, and pining want brought death 

To wasted limbs ; now rank abundance kills. 

Then, poisonous draughts unwittingly were quaffed ; 

Xow far-sought poisons drench a neighbor's cup. 

Next after they had huts and skins prepared, 
And learnt the use of fire ; and woman joined 
To man in wedlock rites — of twain made one, 
Brought in its train connubial joys — chaste love, 
To one appropriate and confined ; when soon 
They saw an offspring rise, part of themselves. 



238 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Then first mankind began their former rude, 

And hard-enduring natures to relax ; 

Effeminate made by warmth, their shivering limbs 

No longer could endure cold of the open sky ; 

Love mined their savage strength, and children's arts 

Subdued the untamed temper of their sires. 

Then neighbors 'gan to join in social league 

With mutual bonds, 'gainst violence and wrong; 

Then tender children, and the female sex 

Clung for protection to the stronger man ; 

The tender mother, fostering her child 

With gentle gesture, and with soothing words, 

Then feelingly proclaimed that all the weak 

'Twas fit the strong should pity and protect. 

But not at once could concord reign supreme, 

Faithful though many held to plighted faith; 

Else had the human race become extinct, 

Nor could have drawn their generations out. 

Nature impelled their tongues to varied sounds, 
And use forged out for men the names of things ; 
As children now, for want of words, are wont 
By earnest gesture, and the finger's point, 
To show an object as a thing desired ; — 
All feel within a conscience of their powers. 
The steer, with budding horns scarce yet revealed 
On his unarmed head, provoked, will gore ; 
The youngling panthers, and the lion's whelps, 
Wage mimic war with open jaws and feet, 



Book V. 239 

While scarce developed yet, or tooth, or claw ; 
And all the feathered tribe when danger threats, 
Trusting to flight, seek tremulous aid from wings. 

That one sole man gave names to things, and taught 
All vocables, is folly to conceive ! 
For how could one to all appoint their tones, 
And fashion utterance for the tongues of men, 
Applying names distinctive, when they all 
Have equal power to frame them as they like ? 
Besides, had they no speech, how came to him 
The apprehension, and the innate sense 
Of what he wanted — what he sought to do ? 
For one could not submissive hold the rest, 
Imposing will to learn, nor could convey 
To unsusceptive ears what he would teach ; 
Nor would they suffer him imposing names 
To stun their ears with unaccustomed sounds ; — 
But what the wonder if the human race, 
With powers of voice endowed, should gradual mark 
With varied sounds all varied things, when brutes, 
Though dumb, are wont to utter cries, 
Expressive of their grief, or fear, or joy. 
The fierce Molossian dogs enraged in fights, 
With teeth laid bare, send forth far other cries 
Than when their throats with baying fill the air ; 
Or when, with tongue caressing, they their young 
Lick into shape, fondle with sheathed claws, 
And with refrained teeth pretend to bite. 



240 Titus Lucretius Cartes. 

How different, too, from the beseeching whine, 

When they howl dismal in deserted house, 

Or yelping cower submissive to the lash. 

How differs, too, the whinny of the horse, 

When, pierced in flower of age with darts of love, 

He raves among the mares, from the loud neigh 

He sends from nostrils broad, 'mid rattling arms, 

Or when with trembling limbs he shrieks with fear. 

The winged tribes, the varied fowls of air, 

Hawks, and the ospreys, and the wild sea-gulls, 

Seeking subsistence on the salt sea waves, 

At different times, far differing sounds emit ; 

When struggling for food, or waging fights, or when 

They change with weather's change, hoarse-throated 

cries. 
The ancient generations of the rooks, 
The trooping crows, 'tis said, with altered notes 
Now rain invoke, and now the windy gusts. 
If varied sense thus animals impel 
To varied cries, without divisioned sounds, 
Much more should man articulate have power, 
By differing words to mark all differing things. 

Now to resolve the doubts that secretly, 
Perhaps, your mind perplex, — know lightning first 
To Earth brought fire ; to all from thence diffused — 
As oft we see the palpitating gleams 
Unfold the heavens, when heat hath steeped the sky ; 
Or sudden bolt like to a tongue of flame 



Book V. • 241 

Falls to the earth and fires the pitchy pines 

Like torches lit by a celestial hand. 

And oft the nodding top of wide-branched tree, 

Wars with a neighbor top, swayed by the winds, 

And leaps to flame by fierce attrition urged. 

Thus either cause might Fire confer on men. 

The sun with mellowing rays throughout the Earth 

Ripening the cruder fruits, taught men the art 

Viands to dress with the subduing heat. 

And, day by day, inventive genius led 

By new discovered arts, subsistence rude, 

And former life progressively to change. 

Then kings began cities to found with towers 
And citadels — a refuge and defence ; 
And to divide the fields in propriety, — 
Once common now to each as they excelled 
In beauty, strength, or wit ; for beauty then 
And wit were prized, though most availed strength. 
Soon property began, and wealth arose 
That wrested honor from the prized before, 
And strength and beauty bowed submiss to gold. 
But did right reason govern human life 
Sparing to live content were greatest wealth, 
Nor could be poverty where are few desires. 
But men aspire to honor, fame, and power 
To found their fortunes on a stable base, 
A.nd live luxurious lives in opulence. 
In vain ; since all contending in the maddening race 
16 



242 Titus Lucretius Cants. 

For fortune's height ; they deadly make the path, 

And when attained lean envy like a bolt 

Hurls them from' topmost round to death despised; 

For envy, like the lightning, strikes the height, 

And all that towers above with lofty head. 

Hence better 'tis in quiet to obey 

Than empire wield, and kingdoms wide to sway, 

Since all-contending in ambition's path, 

They toil in vain, weary and sweating blood ; 

They savor honor with another's mouth, 

Seek not what most delights their proper sense, 

But what is prized in the senseless buzz 

Of popular applause. Such, such are men ; 

Such they have been, and such will ever be ! 

Hence kings were slaughtered, and subverted lay 
The majesty of thrones and sceptres proud ; 
The glorious ensign of the sovereign head 
Now mourns in dust its lost prerogative, 
Spurned by a vulgar foot ; for to the base 
'Tis sweet to trample on what once was feared. 
Now sovereignty sinks down to lowest lees ; 
The rabble rule ; all burn with lust of sway, 
And each the vilest wins his way to power. 
Not long such contest could endure ; full soon 
The human race, worn out with life thus passed 
In violence, exhausted lay with feuds, — 
Thence eager sought the guardian restraint 
Of stable laws and power-armed magistracies ; 



Book V. 243 

For anger seeks more bitter dire revenge 

Than guardian laws concede. Then 'twas that men 

Dragged weary laden lives, whilst deadly fear 

Of pains retaliatory stained the sweets of life, 

And violence and wrong clung like a net 

Round all ; for retribution oftenest on 

His head returned the blow whence first it sprung ; 

Nor could he live secure who violates 

The bond that gives community its peace. 

In vain he seeks to hide from gods and men, 

Secret distrust will hold him as a prey, 

Bewildering dreams shall haunt him in his sleep, 

Delirious fever force his tongue to speak, 

And give to light his bosom stuffed with crimes. 



And now the cause that through wide nations spread 
Belief in gods and all divinities, 
With altars filled cities and towns, and 'stablished 

rites 
That flourish yet in many a sacred place, 
'Tis easy to explain ; for even now, 
The same deep-seated fear in hearts of men, 
Raises new shrines to gods throughout the earth, 
Impelling them to keep their festive days. 
In earliest times the dying races saw 
In waking sight faces and forms divine, 
Majestic semblances ; and more divine, 
More marvellous in size, came in their dreams. 
These when they saw they straight endowed with life ; 



244 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

When they beheld these creatures of the mind, 

Their limbs to move, and heard a dreaded voice 

Suited such glorious look such power supreme ! 

They dowered them soon with life immortal too ; 

For since that look divine returned the same 

And form inalterable, not easily 

Could they believe that beings thus endowed, 

Could subject be to violence and chance ; 

Seen thus in dreams working such wondrous deeds, 

With untaxed powers that knew not of fatigue ; 

They deemed them thus far 'bove the reach of fate, 

And unassailable with the fear of death. 

And when they saw the circles of the sky 

Turn in an order fixed, and seasons change 

In annual round, nor could fit causes know 

Such wonderous revolvings to perform, 

They, for a refuge, yielded all to gods, 

And made all move obedient to their will. 

They placed in heaven their sacred dwelling-place, 

Since there the sun, there rolls the moon, from thence 

Comes day, thence night, there night's dread engines 

play, 
The wandering meteors, and the winged flames, 
Clouds, winds, and rain, lightnings, and hail, and snow 
And the dread thunder with a threatful noise. 

Ah ! miserable men, ascribing such 
Power to the gods, suradding dreadful wrath ! 



Book V. 245 

How many groans ! What wounds you for yourselves 

Prepared ! and us — what tears for all to come ! 

No, 'tis not piety thus veiled to come 

Suppliant to turn towards the senseless stone, 

Prostrate to bow to earth and spread the palms 

Before the shrine of gods, nor altars stain 

With profuse blood of beasts, vows weave on vows ; 

Tis rather piety with peaceful breast 

To look on all, accept the lot allowed ; 

For when we lift our eyes to azure courts 

Above — the temples of the sky — and see 

The ether studded with its glittering fires, 

And think how charioted must be the sun 

And moon their courses to perform, our hearts 

Oppressed already with such thoughts too high, 

Another doubt soon rears its threatening crest : 

How stands to us the mighty power that guides 

In such involved orbs the rushing spheres ? 

The want of fit explanatory cause 

Torments the doubting mind, — o'erpowered it asks 

Whence took the universe its birth, and what 

Shall be its end, or can its pillars last 

Divinely dowered with immortality 

To bear through endless time triumphantly 

The mighty rack of such stupendous rounds ! 

Besides, what soul quails not at dread of gods ? 

What limbs creep not with fear when the scorched earth 

Trembles beneath the lightning's lash, and the 

Resounding crash of thunder shakes the world ? 



246 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

How quake the nations then, and mighty kings, 

With trembling smote, embrace the knees of gods \ 

Lest now were come fierce retribution's hour 

For something proudly spoke or basely done ! 

So when wild tempests over ocean sweep 

Leaders and legions and the pomp of war — 

Their fleets a plaything in the hand of storms — 

How come the proud commanders then with prayers, 

And votive gifts, imploring peace from gods ! 

In vain ; since not the less for prayers they oft 

In whirlwinds seized are borne to shades of death. 

A power unseen thus crushes human things, 

Tramples beneath its feet, and makes a mock 

Of all the ensigns of a human power — 

The honored fasces, the avenging axe, 

The pride, the pomp, and dignity of man ! 

So, when beneath our feet the great globe shakes, 

And smitten cities fall or threat to fall, 

What strange if mortals should despise themselves, 

And tremblingly defer all power and might 

To the great gods to rule and govern all. 

And now to tell how metals were revealed : 
Then first was gold and brass and iron found, 
The gleaming silver and the duller lead, 
When fires on lofty hills had wasted woods ; 
Lit by the lightning's casual fall, perhaps, 
Or by design in the first rustic wars, 
To terror strike a foe, or, better purpose, 



Book V. 247 

To subdue the wilds and open pasture walks, 

Or beasts of prey to kill, and win their spoils — 

For hunting was with pitfall and with fire, 

Before investing toils or hot pursuit 

With dogs. However sprung, when once the flames 

Had with loud crackling noise consumed the woods 

To lowest roots, and fervid made the earth, 

The ductile stream of gold, silver, or lead 

Flowed out in glowing veins to earth-formed moulds, 

And, soon concreted, showed their lustrous shine. 

Rude men, attracted by the glittering toy, 

Lifting, surprised saw in the massy clod 

The form and feature of its earthy mould : 

Straight came the thought ductile again to make 

By heat the rugged mass, and cast in forms, 

Or malleable made by forceful hammers to 

Shape to convenient form, pointed or sharp ; 

And thus fit tools prepare forests to fell, 

The rough to hew in beams, or smooth to planks, 

To perforate and join as use required. 

Nor less for this at first silver and gold 

Were sought than tougher grain of brass. Soon how 

For use unfit their blunted edges showed. 

Then brass was prized, neglected lay the gold; 

But time revolving changes ranks of things — 

Now, brass despised, gold 's held in highest prize, 

And daily sought the more, — and found adorned 

With the admiring praise of changeful men. 

How step by step the ruder iron's use 

Came to be known, 'tis easy to conceive. 



248 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

The earliest arms were fists, and nails, and teeth, 
Stones, or the knotty fragment of a tree, 
Or flaming brands were hurled in the first fights. 
The deadly edge of iron or of brass 
Came later — brass the first, as easiest wrought — 
For brazen shares furrowed the early fields, 
And brazen arms, gleaming in ranks of war, 
At wide-cast sowing ghastly wounds and death, 
A bloody umpirage held o'er flocks and fields, 
All the unarmed yielding to the armed. 
Then gradual advanced the iron sword 
And made a mockery of the blade of brass ; 
Now iron turns in fields the stubborn glebe, 
And holds the balance in the lists of war ! 
And earlier 'twas to mount the foaming steed, 
By the left hand restrained, sword-armed the right, 
Than in a chariot 'tempt the fight, or with 
Scythe-armed wheels to havoc wide the fields. 
The Carthaginians first built towers upon 
The huge rough-hided elephant, and brought 
Their bulk immense to trample down the* ranks 
Of ranged battle, or with tusks to rend. 
Thus dire contention day by day gave birth 
To fateful arts and deadly enginery, 
Suradding horrors to the guise of war ! 

Soon they essayed the tusked boars to train, 
And bulls, for fight, and launch them on their foe- 
And some to battle went with dread advance 



Book V. 249 

Of Parthian lions, and armed leaders who 

With chains might guide their fury or restrain. 

A vain attempt. Mad with first taste of blood, 

They savage routed ranks without regard 

Of friend or foe — fearful alike to both, 

With tooth and claw they fleshed alike on all, 

Shaking on every side their dreaded crests. 

Nor could the horsemen frightened steeds restrain, 

Or hold against the foe; the lionesses 

With deadly leap forth rushing on all sides, 

With open jaws dashed on advancing ranks, 

Or sudden turning, unawares tore down 

Their leaders, bearing both to earth with wounds, 

Bound in a horrid grasp of tooth and claw — 

Bulls tossed the boars, or trampled under foot, 

Sought with fierce upward blows the horse's flanks, 

Or gored them on the ground with dreadful roar. 

The boars their masters tore with savage tusks, 

Stained with their blood, spears in their body broke 

And mingled ravage spread through horse and foot ; 

The horses fled, avoiding transverse blows 

Of bloody tusks, or rearing pawed the air. 

In vain ; hamstrung with blows oblique, rider 

And horse together fell, shaking the earth. 

Thus those that near the stall subdued appeared, 

Were seen to rage in the dread acted field, 

'Mid wounds and cries, terror, tumult, and flight, 

Nor knew restraint ; the maddened elephants 

Fled wounded, dealing death to those that led 



250 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Their huge bulk on ; by retribution fit 
Dealing to them the fate they had prepared. 

All this dread enginery of havoc they 
Contrived, not, as I think, unmindful of 
The pains they with their foes should share ; rather 
By dire contention's universal law, 
Prevailing through all worlds, and not confined 
To this alone ; arraying all 'gainst all — 
The weaker number, and unarmed did this, 
Not with the hope to conquer, but that they 
Might give their foes in dying cause to mourn. 

The knotted garment was before the wove, 
And after iron came the weaver's art, 
Since that alone could his light tools prepare 
Spindles and shuttles, and the sounding beam. 
Nature led men to work in wool before 
The female sex, as cunninger in art. 
But soon the hardy swains such toil despised, 
Left it to feebler hands ; as nobler work 
Called forth their brawny strength, and they applied 
To rougher labors — made thereby more rough. 

s- Creative Nature's self taught men to graft 
And sow the germ-enveloping seed ; they saw 
Where berries from the tree, or fallen nuts 
Threw up beneath swarms of aspiring shoots. 
Then they at will selected scions joined 



Book V. 2 Si 

To stranger stock, left to its nursing care; 
Or planted in the tilth the new-sprung slips. 
The well-loved fields by culture thus subdued, 
The Earth indulgent saw her wilding fruits 
Their wildness yield to cultivation's art ; 
And day by day, the woods hemmed in, retired 
To mountain skirts, to culture left the plain ; 
Meadows, and standing corn, rejoicing vines 
Possessed the level meads and rolling downs, 
And the green thread of olive interwove, 
Marked hill and valley with their verdant tufts ; 
As now you see, marked with distinctive blush 
The cultured field adorn, and hem the wild. 

With voice to imitate the song of birds, 
Was earlier practised, than to soothe the ear 
With measured chant of modulated verse. 
The breath of zephyrs sighing through the reeds 
Taught rustics first to sound the hollow cells ; 
And, step by step, they learnt the soothing plaint 
Which the pipe pours by cunning fingers touched, 
And voice accompanying, heard through pathless 

woods, 
Till woods and lawns resound ; and woke to song 
The shepherd walks, and solitudes divine. 
Such things would soothe and gratify their minds 
With soul-subduing art ; the swains confessed 
An influence new — well pleased, refined ; and then 
Delighted most when satiate with food ; 



252 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

For then the mind most opens to delight. 

Then often, too, in social groups reclined, 

Under embrowned shades, near whispering streams, 

They led glad lives without luxurious pomp ; 

Then most when seasons smiled, and the young year 

Painted the verdant grass with gem-like flowers. 

Then jests the rally and the quick reply ; 

Then bursting laughter reigned ; the rustic muse 

Then flourished fresh as close to Nature's side. 

Glad frolic prompted then shoulders and head 

To pile with wreathed flowers ; and swains impelled 

Moving stiff limbs in rude, unmeasured dance 

To beat their mother Earth with vigorous feet. 

Then sprung loud laughter — sweet, restrained smiles ; 

For all was new — and all as new admired. 

To them awake were glories like to dreams, 

While joys like these beguiled their hours from sleep. 

Glad Nature's revels them impulsive led 

In many modulations, to draw out 

The voice in liquid lays, and weave the song ; 

Or with bent lip run o'er the rustic reed. 

Our nightly pomps preserve these joys impaired, 

And art refined has skilful measures taught ; 

But gives no greater measure of delight 

Than from rude numbers took the earth-born race. 

The present good is deemed to be the best, 

If naught we've known more pleasing e'er before ; 

But greater good discovered, pales the past. 



Book V. 253 

Thus, Ceres, gift of corn, turned to disgust 

The former acorned feast, surpassed, despised. 

The softer vesture and luxurious beds 

Brought scorn to leaf-strown couch and shaggy dress 

From skins, which to the first wearer roused, I ween, 

Such envy that his life a forfeit paid 

To plots and deadly wiles, the prize to win ; 

That in the struggle rent, besmeared with blood, 

Left to the plunderers a sorry spoil ! 

Then skins ; now gold and purple robes inflame 

The minds of men, and wear them out in war. 

Hence, as I think, the greater is our crime. 

For cold had pierced the naked earth-born sons 

Without protecting skins — spoils of the chase. 

While us harms not the want of purple vest 

Decked with its gold and fringed embroidery, 

When the coarse wool better defends from cold 

The shivering limbs. Thus men labor in vain, 

And waste their lives in idle wants and cares — 

Not knowing the true limits to desire, 

Nor what beyond no further good can bring ; 

By slow degrees, they launch their lives upon 

A vexed sea, and drown themselves in waves 

Stirred from the depths — tumultuous waves of war. 

/ The great and changing temples of the sky — 
The sun and moon their watches set in heaven, 
Circling in light and dark their changeful course, 
Taught men the seasons' change, and Nature showed 
Evolving all by fixed unvarying laws. 



254 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

And now lived men girt by protecting towers, 
And tilled divided lands ; each knew his own. 
The barren sea blossomed with snowy sails, 
And politics and social leagues united towns. 
Not long were letters known, — divided types 
Of sounds articulate, — ere poets began 
To chronicle in verse heroic deeds, 
And from oblivion snatch them thus embalmed ; 
For what was earlier done our age cannot 
Recover from the past, nor know it more 
Than the dim trace that reason can discern. 

To plough the fields, the ocean wave to plough, 
To found fair cities 'neath protecting walls, 
And give to them the guardianship of laws, 
Experience led ameliorating life. 
Arms, roads, and garments, and like things of use, 
The sweet rewards — the dear delights of life, 
Poems, and pictures, statues, temples, fanes, 
Want, and the restless energy of man 
Taught gradual, step by step, the advancing age. 
Time slowly thus evolved each social art 
And reason brought them to the shores of light ; 
One from another takes lustre and growth 
Till each attains its culminating height. 



END OF BOOK V. 



BOOK VI. 



METEOROLOGY. 

Praise of Athens. — Meteoric Phenomena — Of Thunder — Lightning, how- 
produced — Thunderbolts, how formed — Not hurled by the Gods. — 
Of Water-spouts. — Clouds, how formed. — Of Rain — Snow — Hail. — 
Of Earthquakes — Volcanoes — ./Etna. — Overflow of the Nile. — Of 
Avernal Lakes. — Hot Springs.— Of the Magnet. — Of the Origin 
and Cause of Disease. — Description of the Plague of Athens. 



BOOK VI. 



Illustrious Athens to poor mortals first 
Taught humanizing arts of husbandry, 
And gave them social leagues secured by law, 
Ameliorating life before forlorn ! 
She gave them first sweet solaces of life, 
When she great Epicurus gave — the man 
With genius fired — with ardent soul endowed 
To pour from truthful lips all wisdom old — 
Though dead his great discoveries remain, 
And bear throughout the world his vast renown ! 
For when he saw subsistence was assured, 
And life secure from violence and wrong — 
All goods external in full measure heaped ; 
Yet men with wealth abounding, and with sons 
And daughters round an honorable crown ! 
Bore not the less within their souls oppressed, 
With fears in reason's spite tormenting life, 
And forcing them to querulous complaints — 
Well knew he then the soul the cause of ill, 
That like a tainted cup taints all within ; 
To evil turning Nature's bounteous gifts, 
Or letting them escape — a leaky sieve, 
17 



258 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

No flood of blessings can avail to fill. 
Well sought he then the soul with truth to purge, 
And limits give to fear, and mad desire ; 
Unfolding the true good, the aim of all, 
What 'tis, and how by narrow path to reach ! 
He signalized the ills that cleave to man — 
His nature's foibles, that essential cleave 
By Nature's law, necessity or chance — 
Showed what the gates of ill ; how it assails ; 
Whence comes exposure ; how we lend our sides 
To Fortune's arrows, and invite the blow ; 
Then how we can oppose, how meet, resist ; 
Convincing men causeless most part, and vain, 
Involve themselves in the sad waves of care. 
For e'en as children tremble in the dark, 
And all things fear ; we tremble in the light, 
And ofttimes fear things no more worthy fear 
Than what affrightens children in the dark, 
Filling the future with foreboded ills. 
These terrors of the soul, this blinded mind, 
Not the sun's rays — bright arrows of the day 
Can with their light dispel ; but reasoning sound 
Unfolding Nature's aspects and her laws. 
Wherefore the more such undertaking vast 
To clothe in fitting words my verse proceeds. 

And since I've showed the world's vast fabric bears 
Destruction's seeds — that e'en the heavens are mortal, 
Formed of a body that took birth in time ; 



Book VI. 259 

And have resolved how all goes on in them, 
And must go on by fixed, unvarying law — 
What now remains to crown my work complete ; 
Since once embarked in an arduous course, 
The hope of triumph fires the goal to win, 
And what opposed once overpast, becomes 
Impulses high to finish the career. 

When men on what in heaven and earth is done 
With fearful souls in contemplation dwell, 
The dread of gods will prostrate and subdue, 
And ignorance of causes them compel 
To give to gods the empire over things, 
And Nature's governance yield up to them. 
E'en those who know the gods dwell in repose, 
If still they wondering pry, and seek to learn 
How all is done in the ethereal courts, 
Will soon be bound in Superstition's chain ; 
Invoking lords severe, whom miserably 
They deem all-powerful and supreme. 
Unknowing what can be and what cannot, 
What limits each by bounds profoundly fixed, 
They wandering wide in wild delusions stray ; 
Which not rejected and afar repelled, 
Thus thinking things unworthy of the gods 
And foreign to their peace, their injured 
Divinities will oft o'erhang the soul. 
Not that their peace can violated be, 
That anger should impel revenge to seek 



260 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

By direful punishment for aught offence, 

But you yourself by wild imaginings 

Drag them from peaceful seats, and madly deem 

The dwellers in repose — the placid gods, 

Will roll on us the billows of revenge. 

Not then with peaceful breast can you approach 

The shrine of gods, nor calm your breast receive 

"Hie images their forms dispense to men, 

Those messengers divine — guests of the soul — 

How then tormented must your life become! 

And though I've taught right reason must reject 

All that as false, must from the mind repel ; 

Much yet remains to be adorned with verse — 

Laws to unfold that rule above our heads, 

And all the changing aspects of the sky. 

To tell of tempests, and the dazzling play 

Of lightnings, what their effects, and whence they 

spring ; 
Lest, fooled and trembling, you divide the sky 
In quarters whence may come the winged fire, 
And where withdraw ; seeking the impelling power 
By which it penetrates thick barriers, 
Then bears away triumphant over bonds. . 
And lacking power such marvels to explain, 
You deem them work of some divinity. 

Oh, Muse of wisdom ! Calliope ! joy 
Of men, delight of gods above ! aid thou, 
In this my last, as in my former lay ! 



Book VI 261 

That, by thy guidance, I may win the crown — 
Bright meed of poets and philosophers ! 

First thunder shakes the azure fields of air, 
When the aerial clouds, sailing aloft, 
Together rush, driven by warring winds ; 
Nor thunders the serene ; but when the clouds 
In densest folds collect, then loudest comes 
The thunder's crash and dread reverberate roar. 
But not with body so condensed are clouds 
As wood or stone; nor thin, like mist or smoke, 
Else they from weight would fall abrupt like stones ; 
Or, wanting due consistency, their folds 
Could not bear up the arrowy sleet and hail, 
Nor the thick burden of the snows transport. 
Oft too, clouds send forth explosive sounds, 
As wide-spread awnings stretched on masts and beams, 
Swayed by the winds, like bursts of sound emit ; 
And sometimes, vexed and rent by snappish winds, 
They imitate the sound of parchment torn ; 
And shattering sounds in thunder you may hear, 
Of sails or garments rent, or flying sheets 
Hurled ribboned through the air by gusts of wind ; 
Sometimes they meet, but not with adverse fronts, 
But moved athwart rub their contiguous sides, 
Whence a dry, grating sound assails the ear, 
As forceful through confined passage drawn. 

And in this way from thunder all things quake, 
As though the walls of the capacious world, 



262 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Shattered and rent, would wide asunder leap. 

Sometimes a mighty storm of gathered winds 

Entwines itself with clouds, and, shut within, 

A rushing whirlwind grows ; then clouds condense, 

Vast hollows making with thick envelope ; 

Till with impetuous force the walls explode, 

Dispersing fragments with a rattling noise. 

Nor wonderful is this, since bladders blown, 

On sudden burst, give like explosive sounds. 

And reason is winds through the clouds should 
roar, 
Hurtling their jagged sides, as oft we see 
Clouds fan-like spread like trees borne wond'rous on ; 
And when thick-falling blasts the forests rend, 
Their tops give murmuring sounds, and branches roar ; 
Sometimes the incited winds by blows direct 
Shatter and rend the clouds — what such assaults 
Can do on high, judge from what 's done below 
With feebler powers, as on the earth we see 
Oft lofty trees uprent from lowest roots ! 
And in the clouds are waves, that breaking give 
A heavy sound, as on broad rivers or the sea, 
Hoarse breaks the surf, and loud the billows roar. 

From clouds to clouds when living lightnings leap, 
They're sometimes caught in deluges of rain, 
And strangled instant with tumultuous roar. 
As the red iron hisses from the forge, 



Book VI 263 

Sudden in water plunged — if drier clouds 
Receive the vagrant fires, forthwith inflamed, 
They burn impetuous with a deafening noise ; 
As when the flames, resistlessly borne on, 
Ravage the pride of some thick-laureled hill, 
The branches burn, licked up with roaring sound ; 
For than the Delphic laurel there's no tree 
Gives in the flames a louder crackling noise. 
Oft crashing ice and hail together hurled 
Emit hoarse sounds on high, when mighty winds, 
Them forcing to a strait, grind and' break up 
The frozen billow clouds, mingled with hail. 

Lightning is seen to gleam where'er the clouds 
By fierce concussion force out seeds of heat ; 
As when the flinty rock strikes flint or steel, 
Light leaps, and fire rains down in glowing sparks. 
We see the lightning ere the thunder hear ; 
For quicker comes the impulse to the eye 
Than to the ear ; as plain to be perceived 
By watch of woodman laboring with axe, 
To fell the pride of some wide-spreading tree ; 
The falling blows are seen before the sound 
Comes to the ear ; so blinding lightnings come 
Before the thunder, though from self-same cause 
Springs thunder and its fleet, vaunt courier, light, 

And in this way the clouds the region tinge 
With light, and clouds lower with a tremulous gleam. 



264 Titus Lucretius Canes. 

When winds invade a cloud and turns within, 

It mines in hollows, thickening its folds, 

And makes it with its rapid motion glow ; 

For all by motion, as we know, takes heat ; 

The ball of lead e'en melts in rapid flight — 

When fervid thus bursts sudden the black cloud, 

It scatters seeds of heat, forceful expelled, 

And shows a gleam of lurid flickering flames ; 

Then slower creeping to the ear comes sound 

Than glances to the eye the winged light. 

When thickening nimbus in dense folds collect — 

Clouds piled on clouds above a wondrous press — 

Be not deceived that, viewed from below, 

They greater spread in breadth than reared in height ; 

For see, when winds bear cloudy pillars on 

In shape like mountains, or see mountains piled 

On mountains, and the cloudy summits rear, 

When sleep the winds their lofty battlements ; 

Thence you may know how great their bulk, and see 

Vast caverns scooped as 'twere in hanging rocks ; 

Which winds at rise of tempest fill, and, shut within, 

Tumultuous roar like wild beasts shut in dens. 

Now here, now there, low mutterings send through 

clouds — 
Seeking escape, on all sides whirled about, 
And heat evolving from the folds condensed 
Roll flames in hollow furnaces, till burst, 
Far gleam the heavens and wide with forked light. 



Book VI 265 

And from same swift-winged cause is poured on 
earth 
The golden colors of a liquid fire ; 
For clouds within have many a fiery seed, 
That, purged of vapor, paint them, when at eve 
They deck themselves with azure and with gold ; 
As from the sun they drink abounding light, 
They needs, when winds driving compress their folds, 
Must pour abounding forth the blushing stores, 
Showing resplendent and flame-colored hues ; 
And lightnings play on the aerial vest, 
When winds gently the clouds diffuse ; for then 
Their fiery seeds they drop, and wide their skirts 
Innocuous play, with silent, fitful gleams. 

And now the nature of the thunder-bolt 
Their strokes declare, and branding signs of fire, 
And breath sulphurous ; for all these are marks 
Of scorching heat, and not of wind or rain. 
And more, they fire our roofs, and the quick flames, 
Revelling, o'ertop the loftiest battlements ; 
For Nature hath endowed with subtlest seeds 
Of heat the dread strong-handed minister, 
Pervading bolt that nothing can resist ; 
So passes it unchecked, through walls, through rocks, 
And in an instant diffuse makes the cup, 
Or from the cup unharmed chases the wine, 
Its pores relaxed by the insidious heat, 
Which not the darting sun in time could do, 



266 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

So much more puissant, with its forked heat, 
Is lightning's glancing and pervading might. 
Now whence begotten, and how formed the power, 
That with resistless strength can strike down towers, 
Rock houses, and disperse rafters and beams, 
Waste the proud monuments of men, and men 
Strike instant dead, and lifeless prostrate flocks — 
Whence comes, I say, the power all this can do; 
No more delaying, I will now unfold. 

The thunderbolts take birth in piled-up clouds, 
Nor fall they ever from a sky serene ; 
Nor come their strokes from a light filmy cloud ; 
But then they come, as manifest facts declare, 
When clouds thick folds have gathered from the air, 
That we might think that all the shades had left 
Dark Acheron, and filled the vault of heaven, 
So thick a night of gathered storms and clouds 
Hangs o'er our heads — such direful forms of fear 
When tempests forge their bolts. Portentous oft, 
Like to a pitchy river from the sky let down, 
A black storm-cloud with fire replete descends 
Upon the sea, and wide by tempests winged, 
Its dusky burden borne, pregnant with bolts, 
Advancing to the land with dreadful march, 
To shelter drives men terror-struck and beasts. 
Hence must we think that high above our heads 
Tempests are piled on tempests, storm on storm, 
Nor with such blackness could they shroud the sky, 



Book VI. 267 

Make night untimely take the place of day, 

Were clouds not heaped on clouds, strangling the sun ; 

Nor with such deluges could they flood the earth, 

Make rivers overtop their continents, 

And with unwonted seas lay waste the fields, 

Were Ether not high piled and thick with storms— 

And these are all with fire and wind replete, 

Whence growling thunders and fierce lightnings come ; 

For hollow clouds must, as I've taught, contain 

Innumerous seeds of heat ; for needs they must 

Draw many such from sun's fierce rays, and fires. 

These when the winds assemble to one place, 

It forces out their elemental heat, 

That, mingling itself with the exuded fire, 

The sinuous whirlwind turned in narrow strait, 

Forges the bolt in red-hot furnaces — 

The glowing breath by double cause inflamed, 

Its own velocity and contiguous fires — 

When heated thus by winds and lashed by fire, 

Bursts sudden forth the red, ripe thunderbolt ; 

The glowing ardor glancing quick unfolds 

The region round, follows reverberant noise, 

As crashing were the temples of the sky ; 

Then tremblings shake the earth, hoarse mutterings 

roll 
Through vaulted heaven, and groans the firmament — 
Straight on the shock follows the torrent rain, 
As though the skies converted were to seas, 
And falling would with deluges o'erwhelm ! 



268 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

So great a flood descends when bursts the cloud, 

And sound tumultuous comes from branding stroke. 

Sometimes again wind rushing from without, 

Fierce falling upon clouds, gravid with storms, 

With pent-up lightnings fraught, rends them abrupt ; 

Forthwith the meteor falls, a fiery whirl 

We call the thunder-bolt, and falls the same 

In other part where'er the power is borne. 

Sometimes a blast of wind devoid of heat 

Will fervid grow in a long rapid flight, 

Strewing upon the way its grosser parts, 

Abstracting from the air the spirituous, 

That mingling generates fire by onward tract ; 

As in swift flight all fervid grows the lead, 

Losing its rigid elements in air, 

And onward flying liquefies by heat. 

And it may be sheer violence of shock 

Can force out fire e'en from cold blast of air ; 

For, when impelled it strikes with vehement force, 

The elemental heat streams forth from it, 

And from the thing encountering the blow ; 

As when the flint strikes steel, though cold the steel, 

Yet not the less fire leaps beneath the blow 

Igniting all apt to receive the flame. 

Nor lightly think the mighty power of air 

Can in itself be cold — sent from above 

With violence below — it must thereby, 

Though kindled not, by going gather heat, 

And laden hot with tepid vapor come. 



Book VI 269 

The fleetness of the lightning and its power 
Comes from incited force that, chained in clouds, 
Collects a mighty impulse at the start ; 
And when the cloud no longer can restrain 
The gathered impetus, the meteor bursts, 
As missiles from the strong balista thrown ; 
Add then minute and polished elements — 
Not easy 'tis resistance to oppose 
To such consistency that gliding winds 
Through minute pores, and checked by no delay, 
Bears itself on with headlong impetus. 
Again, as weights with violence press below, 
An added impulse fleeter makes their flight ; 
So bolt in falling, shattering all opposed, 
Dispersing fragments, keeps an onward track ; 
Besides what from a long flight comes gathers 
Velocity by going more and more, 
Swells robust powers, resistless makes the blow ; 
Summoning its elements from all parts around, 
That rushing join the flight ; or coming they, 
Reinforced perhaps, draw something from the air 
That gives increased momentum to the blow. 
Some substances it traverses and leaves unharmed, 
The fluid gliding through interstices ; 
While some it shatters, when the lightning's form 
Encounters obstacles that cohesive hold, 
While brass it melts, and dissipates the gold ; 
For such the power of elements minute, 



270 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

They easily insinuate, and thus 
Dissolve within binding affinities. 

The glittering vault of heaven and the earth 
Are shaken most when shine autumnal stars, 
Or when the spring unfolds the flowery year. 
In winter fail the fires ; the winds lack heat ; 
Nor then are clouds so densely piled on high. 
But when the season opens between both, 
All lightning's causes varied most conspire — 
The year's divisions mingle heat and cold ; 
For needs these both the meteor fierce to form 
That springs in conflict of the elements, 
When air raves with the strife of wind and fire. 
In spring advances first the reign of heat ; 
Bleak cold deposed, retires ; needs must contend 
Such opposites, and mingling all turmoil. 
In the autumnal season failing heat 
Encounters rigors of advancing cold, 
And winter struggling claims the mastery. 
Well then are called these the war times of 
The year ; nor strange that then most lightnings gleam, 
Most tempests howl through foul and turbid skies, 
Since on all sides a doubtful war is waged — 
Here ranged flames ; there, winds mingled with rain. 

The nature then of the fire-freighted bolt, 
You well may know ; its power, and how it acts. 
Go not thou then to the Etruscan scroll, 



Book VI. 271 

Reciting backward spells to seek concealed 

Designs of gods, by thunder's fall revealed. 

Ask not whence comes the winged bolt, or where 

Withdraws ; how penetrates prisoned recess, 

How thence exulting flashes from its bonds, 

Or how the bolt of lightning can destroy. 

If Jupiter, or any other god 

With thunder shake the sky — if they to earth 

Launch hissing bolts where prompts each one the will ; 

Why strike they not the wretch rampant in crime, 

And make his blasted trunk exhaling flames, 

A fearful warning to the race of men ! 

Why are the innocent and souls unsoiled, 

Oft undeserved, blind victims made of fate, 

Caught in a whirlwind of celestial fire ! 

Why aim they idly at deserted place ? 

Wont are the gods by use their arms to skill ! 

Why blunt on senseless rocks the Father's bolts ? 

Why suffers he, nor for his foes reserves ? 

Why thunders Jove not in a sky serene ? 

Waits he till clouds thick veil the skies, and then 

Descends from nearer station to direct his blows ? 

Why launch against the sea the bolt ? or why 

Rebuke the waves, and lash the watery world ? 

Would he that men should 'scape the direful stroke ? 

Why grants he not dread missile then to see, — 

Or would he whelm in fires them unawares ? 

Why threat with angry voice to bid them flee, 

Why shroud in darkness, and hoarse murmurs wake ? 



272 Titus Lucretius Carzis. 

Or can he, think you, launch to many parts 
At the same instant wide-divided blows ? 
Or wilt assert this ne'er is done; but know 
O'er many regions hang the shrouding clouds 
That shed each one at once the blasting fires. 
Why strikes he often with blind hostile brand 
The sacred fanes, the seats revered of gods ? 
Shatters the well-wrought image of himself 
With sulphurous wounds, dishonoring his shrine ; 
Why strikes he often the exalted place 
And spares the low ? for most the lofty hills 
Bear on their singed tops signs of his fire. 

Now from these facts 'tis easy to explain 
The water-spout — the prester of the Greeks — 
How, formed aloft, they droop upon the sea 
In form of columns, when the vexed waves 
Tumultuous roar, lashed by infuriate winds. 
Ill fares the vessel in the turmoil caught— 
When the roused winds, pent up in clouds, cannot 
Prevail the tegument to burst, but bears 
It down, as if a mighty arm thrust forth 
A cloudy pillar from the earth to sea ; 
Till, burst at length, the prisoned winds let loose 
To mad convulsions rouse the yeasty waves ; 
When the fierce whirling power descending, draws 
The clouds in pliant folds, and thrust upon 
The deep, winds mingle with the waves, and plunged 
Within makes the possessed sea to boil, 



Book VI. . 273 

Heaving its billows with tumultuous roar. 

Or, it may be the vortex winds involve 

With clouds, and rolling up their folds 

Form water-spouts in air, that, drooping down, 

Tempest the earth with whirlwind violence. 

More rare occurring this on land, where hills 

Their flanks oppose than on the uncumbered sea. 

Clouds form aloft when floating vapors light 
Co'lesce on sudden in the vault of heaven, 
Held by slight mutual bonds ; first a light veil 
Whose thin consistency scarce stains the sky ; 
And this takes all that congregating comes, 
And by conjunction grows ; and borne by winds 
Swells a wild storm and tumult at the last. 
Then hills whose tops are neighbor to the sky, 
More lofty raised, more constantly they smoke 
With the swarth darkness of the tawny cloud. 
For when first clouds condense, before the eye 
Can seize their thin consistency, their troops 
The carrier winds collect on mountain tops ; 
For thickest clouds we see to ether rise 
From the moist summit of the veiled mount ; 
And facts declare we mount to windy realms 
When toiling we go up their scarped sides. 

Besides, that Nature causes much to rise 
In vapor from the sea, the garments hung 
Near wave-washed shores, made damp by mist declare ; 
18 



274 Titus Lucretms Carus. 

Hence much to build the clouds there needs must rise 
From ceaseless motion of the restless seas. 
Then from all rivers, and from Earth itself, 
Ofttimes we see the steaming mists go up 
Like heavy breath forced out, and raised aloft, 
Suffusing heaven with a dusky veil, 
That, gradual thickening, grows at length to clouds ; 
And radiant influence from the starry spheres 
Of ether bears them down, and helps to weave 
For the cerulean its cloak of clouds. 
Or it may be to the assemblage come 
From fartherest heaven floating elements, 
And add their tribute to the gathering folds, 
Since I have taught these infinite, and showed 
How swift they traverse the unmeasured space. 
Hence 'tis not wonderful that in so short time, 
As oft we see, tempests and storm-clouds formed 
On high dispensed, can such vast mountains veil, 
With thickest darkness shrouding sea and land. 
Since on all sides, through all the tubes of air, 
Through all spiracula of the breathing world 
To elements open wide exit and entrance. 

And now I have to tell how rain-drops form 
In the dark lowering of the thickened clouds, 
And how, let loose, the showers descend to earth. 
First, I have showed moist elements float in air, 
That rising form the clouds, vapors, and mists, 
With all their watery stores ; as humors swell 



Book VI. 275 

With sweat and blood, in vigorous growing limbs; 
And clouds in hanging fleeces, like a sponge 
Licking up wet such moisture from the sea, 
When borne by winds they sweep the liquid plains. 
In the same way from every river lifts 
The misty vapors to the gathering clouds, 
That thus from all increase their watery stores ; 
Which laden they strive doubly to dispense, 
Wrung by the winds, pressed by redoubling clouds 
From ether coming, that, condensing all, 
Open the sluices to descending showers. 
Moreo'er, when clouds dispersed are by winds, 
Or when struck by the sun's heat-bearing rays, 
Dispersed they are above ; the rains precipitate 
And moisture trickles down, as wax near fire, 
Melting, distils the frequent liquid drops. 
But then comes rain most violent when clouds 
Are pressed by weight and impetus of winds. 
And gentler rains are wont, that longer last 
When vapors damp abound, and clouds on clouds 
Come thickening from above, and all below 
The saturate Earth smoking exhales a mist. 
Then when the sun from adverse part of heaven 
Upon the cloud its glowing baptism sheds 
Of ardent rays, straight the resplendent bow 
O'er the dark drapery hangs its braided hues. 

All other things that have their birth on high — 
Snows, winds, and tempests, hail, and arrowy sleet, 
Strong-handed frost, that seals the restless waves, 



276 Titus Lucretius Caries. 

And puts a bridle on the rushing streams- — 
All these, and such as these, — how formed, and what 
Their causes, you can tell, when well conceived, 
The properties assigned to elements. 

Now come the Earthquake's causes learn : and first 
Conceive the Earth as on its surface seen, 
So constituted is in depths below ; 
Hence, in its bosom holds vast windy caves, 
Innumerable lakes, chasms, and pools profound, 
With rocks abrupt, and cliffs precipitous. 
And many rivers, hid beneath the Earth, 
Roll waves tumultuous o'er submerged rocks ; 
For things throughout are like unto themselves. 
The Earth thus formed below, trembles above, 
Struck by intestine ruins when old Time 
Crushes and crumbles up her caverned depths. 
For when whole mountains fall, tremblings perforce 
Must far and wide from the concussion creep ; 
Since with less reason, solid buildings shake 
When roll the loaded wains along our streets ; 
And trembles earth around when coursers fleet 
Hurry o'er paved ways the iron-bound wheels — 
As oft with age a mined hill comes down 
With hideous disruption to the plain, 
So too, perchance, to subterranean pools 
Masses of earth immense crumble through age, 
And falling dash the waves ; then quakes the Earth 



Book VI. 277 

As the containing vessel sways, when sways 
Water within, nor rests till rest its waves. 

Besides, when winds pent up in hollow depths 
Bear to one part with shouldering violence, 
They forceful heave the cavern's domed roof, 
Till Earth gives way where the prone winds impend. 
Then lofty buildings on the surface reared, 
The more toward heaven they lift aspiring heads, 
The more, bulging and forced awry they yield, 
And started beams impend prepared to fall. 
Yet men hold back, reluctant to believe 
That to the World awaits a final day 
With fated ruin and destruction fraught, 
Though seeing Earth thus fail beneath their feet. 
For did not then the unbridled winds refrain, 
Nothing could check them rushing to destroy ; 
But since their powers relax, and then reinforced, 
Rallied, return ; again, repulsed, retire 
With varying violence ; the Earth is thus 
With ruin oftener threatened than o'erwhelmed. 
And though to centre shook, yet gradually 
By weight subsiding, she reseats herself 
On firm foundations, though shattered and rent 
The works of men, the more as loftier raised. 

Another cause of fearful tremblings is 
When some tornado coming from without, 
Or sprung in some dark subterranean mine, 



278 Titus Lucretius Cams. 

Rushes to hollow places of the earth 

And with wild tumult raves her caves among ; 

Till forceful whirling, bursting forth at length 

In hideous yawnings, rends the founded Earth. 

As happened once in Syrian Sidon old, 

Seated upon the sea ; and once in ALgium, 

In Peloponnesus famed ; when rushing air 

Unfounded cities, and the earth made quake. 

By Earthquakes, too, how many walled towns 

Have been o'erthrown ? how many drowned in seas, 

Cities and citizens together whelmed ? 

E'en when such prisoned winds fail to burst forth, 

They rush through veins of Earth, and tremblings 

come, 
As shudderings oft o'er shivering members creep. 
How then do smitten populations quake 
With terrors overhead, terrors beneath 
Their feet, lest caverns crumbled up should ope 
Sudden wide jaws, ingulfing ruins round. 

Now learn why seas unconscious of increase — 
For wonderful it seems how nature sets 
Their boundary no wave can overpass ; 
Why falling waters from the vagrant clouds, 
Or tempests winged wide drenching sea and land, 
Why freight of waters by all rivers borne, 
And all the tribute of her secret springs 
Cannot avail to change her level bulk, 
Or overtop her limitary sands — 



Book VI 279 

But strange it will not seem when well conceived, 
For lost in her immensity, they all 
Are but a drop to swell the ocean's waste. 
Besides, the sun by heat pumps up a part 
Superfluous from her stores, since garments wet 
Soon yield their moisture to his piercing rays. 
How much then must his brooding wings lick up 
From such wide-spreading seas ! though small his 

draughts 
From any part, unsummed they are from all. 
Then, too, the winds a watery tribute take, 
Sweeping the ocean plains ; how largely takes 
'Tis easy to conceive, since oft we see 
The miry ways encrusted in a night. 
Besides, I've taught how much in vapor lifts 
To clouds, sucked from her oozy bed, and drop 
In rain, where winds their dusky freightage bring. 
Again, since Earth is porous, and around 
Girt by the margin of conjoined seas, 
As flow from land the waters to the sea, 
So the salt wave insidious glides to land, 
Confluent to the source of every stream 
That flows a silver thread of waters sweet, 
With limpid foot adown her sloped ways. 

And now to tell how from the rocky jaws 
Of iEtna fires sometimes are seen to burst, 
Upheaved in frightful torrents vast ; for sure. 
From no light gathering of destructive powers 



280 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Tempests of fire hang o'er Sicilian plains, 

And fearful gaze of neighboring nations draw, 

At sight terrific of the heavens on fire ; 

Filling with anxious dread their trembling breasts, 

What new convulsions Nature may prepare. 

Such portents to explain needs must we look 
Both wide and deep ; and to the mind recall 
How small a part one heaven may be of all — 
How infinitely small — -as it may be, 
One man perhaps to the vast bulk of earth, 
Which, well considered — in full truth conceived, 
You'll cease to wonder at what now astounds. 
For what the wonder if some one of us 
Be seized with fever or a burning heat, 
Or limbs be racked by any malady ! 
As oft the foot is sudden puffed with gout, 
Or piercing pains invade the teeth or eyes, 
Or creeping erysipelas corrodes 
The limbs ; truly, because there 're infinite seeds, 
And heaven, and earth are full enough for us 
Of causes of disease ; and so to Earth 
And heaven, causes enough from the Great Whole 
May come to them, whence they shall sudden shake 
And whirlwinds fierce may sweep the sea and land, 
And ^Etnean fires burst forth and flame the skies, 
The wide celestial regions drench in fire ; 
And rain storms gather in terrific mass, 
When stores of water meet for such result. 



Book VI 281 

Say you the fiery deluge is too great ? 

Forsooth, what river is there is not great 

To him who ne'er has seen a greater ; so 

The tree, the hill, as yet no greater seen 

Is deemed immense, though they, with sea and land, 

To the Great Whole compared are but as naught. 

Now to unfold how fires excited burst 
From out yEtnean furnaces. Know, then, 
The mountain mined and hollowed is below, 
In caverns scooped, high propped with domes of flint ; 
These all are filled with wind and air ; for air 
By agitation generates the wind. 
The wind by raging motion made to glow, 
Makes glow the rocks around ; from mineral earths 
Strikes out the ardent fire and winged flames, 
That, rising, vomit from wide open jaws. 
With these hurls rocks of an astounding weight, 
Rains glowing cinders round, and rolls thick smoke — 
Nor doubt all's due to the fierce powers of air. 
Besides, from every part the sea dashes 
Its waves against, and from the mountain's roots 
Sucks back its tides; since wind the caverned depths 
Beneath the sea, as manifest facts declare. 
And winds there penetrate that, belching forth, 
Roll high the flames ejecting sand and rocks 
From boisterous craters, or what we call jaws, 
Wide canopying heaven with ashy smoke. 



282 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

Some things there are in which 'twill not suffice 
To name one cause but more ; though one alone 
The true efficient be ; if distant thus, 
You see a lifeless corse, untold, you may 
Suppose he met from various cause his death. 
Whether he fell by steel, stiffened from cold, 
Was prey to poison, or sunk from disease, 
You cannot certain know ; but scan each cause, 
That among all the true one may be hit. 
So must we do in many a doubtful case. 

The Nile, sole river of Egyptian plains, 
Swells in the summer, and o'erflows her fields ; 
Whether in summer the north winds that lie 
Against her mouths, when the Etesian blows, 
Bridle her current and delay its flow. 
For, without doubt, gales from the frozen north 
Strike adverse to her stream, that takes its rise 
In regions far withdrawn, where day divides ; 
And from the parched south pours down its tide 
'Mid Ethiop tribes — the races tanned by heat. 
Or it may be, heaped by opposing winds 
And tides, the sands bank her wide mouths, and thus 
Forbid the downward rushing of her stream. 
Or chance more rain falls at the fountain head 
In seasons when the north Etesian gales 
Drive to those parts accumulated clouds 
In fartherest south, and gathered there on hills, 
The laden clouds compressed, discharge their stores. 



Book VI. 283 

Or the all-seeing sun with softening rays 

The current swells, when from Ethiopian mounts 

He to the plain sends down the heaped-up snows. 

Now I explain the Avernal lakes, and sites 
That deadly exhalations breath ; that take 
From this their name, since deadly to all birds. 
Soon as in flight such region they approach, 
Forgetful of the oarage of their wings, 
Their feathered sails they drop, and headlong fall 
Diffuse, with drooping heads, and necks relaxed. 
Such place is Cumae, near the sulphurous mount 
Where smoking currents large from hot springs flow. 
Such in the Athenian walls, the citadel 
And height with temple of Minerva crowned. 
Thither no savory smell from altars heaped 
Can lure the wary crow to trust her wing. 
Not that as poets tell they dread the ire 
Of Pallas, for their fabled watch ; alone 
The place pestiferous warns their flight away. 
In Syria, too, a spot 'tis said is found 
Whose pestilent breath strikes down e'en quadrupeds 
That come unwary near ; sudden they fall, 
As if to the Manes struck a victim down ; 
Though all arises from fixed natural laws. 
Then think not here are placed the gates of hell, 
Nor that the infernal deities can drag 
Hence down, souls to the shores of Acheron, 
As the wing-footed deer 'tis said can draw 



284 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

By strong inspiring of his nostrils broad, 
The scaly serpents from their dark retreat ! 
How wide from truth — by reason how repelled, 
Such tales as these, the truth unveiled shall show. 

First, I repeat — repeated oft before, 
In Earth are found atoms of every form. 
Many to man nutritious ; many more 
That bear disease, and haste the approach of death ; 
Many to various animals adapt, 
As varied natures suit their varied forms. 
Much harsh and grating creeps in at the ears, 
Much to the nostrils comes offending sense, 
While much revolts the touch, or wounds the sight, 
Or tortures with offence the taste ; while some 
Disgust intense, or bitter pangs excite. 
Thus certain trees possess a deadly shade 
To rack with pain the head reclined beneath ; 
And on the heights of Helicon a shrub 
Is found, whose blossom's smell bears death to man. 
Thus in all lands plants multiform spring up, 
Foodful or poisonous, to be sought or shunned. 
The acrid smell of an extinguished lamp 
To nostrils coming, stupefies a man 
Subject to fall in epileptic fits. 
The foetid smell of castor overpowers 
A woman in the season of her sex ; 
The rare wrought work drops from her tender hands ; 
She fainting sinks, if snuffed just then its power. 



Book VI 285 

And many things dissolve the languid limbs, 

Jostle the soul within from off her seat. 

Thus, if with food replete you sudden plunge 

In the hot bath, you there a death may find. 

How, too, will charcoal fumes quick penetrate 

The brain ; take captive life, if not betimes 

The body fortified by cooling draughts. 

For when the insidious power has seized the limbs, 

The pestilent breath comes deadly like a blow. 

And see you not how fumes bituminous 
Sulphurous and deadly gender in the earth ! 
What ills the breathing of metallic fumes 
Brings upon those who track the hidden veins, 
Silver or gold — deep prying in the earth — 
What look cadaverous, and what hue they bear ! 
Have you not seen or heard how soon they sink — 
How quickly fail the vital power of those 
Whom strong necessity to such work compels ? 
Since deadly vapors in the Earth ferment, 
And when exhaled brood in the open air. 
Thus the Averni the winged fowl involve 
In deadly exhalations from the ground, 
Empoisoning all that region of the sky. 
When thither comes in airy flight the bird, 
Seized with a secret bane, shut are his wings, 
Down drops to earth the feathered traverser. 
Or it may be the strong Avernian steam 
Dispels the incumbent air, making a void ; 



286 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Then fails at once the oarage of their wings ; 

No more aloft by their pulsations held, 

They headlong fall to earth through the drear void, 

While life exhales from every opening pore. 

Water in summer time flows cool in wells, 
Because the Earth then rarefied by heat, 
Its proper stores most radiate to the air. 
Hence more the Earth is drained of its heat, 
And colder grows the currents under ground. 
But when by cold in winter 'tis compressed, 
Its heat escaping passes into wells. 

Near Amnion's fane a fount 'tis said there is 
Whose flow by day is cold, and warm by night ; 
Whence greatly wondering men conceive the sun •• 
With sudden power must warm it from below, 
When night with dismal shades hath shrouded Earth — 
But far from truth such supposition strays ; 
For when the sun with fervent rays direct 
Lying on the unshadowed plains with power 
Of day, warms not the surface waters, how 
Could it warm them when Earth is interposed ? 
When scarce its heat can penetrate thick walls ! 
What then the cause ? more porous is the Earth 
That girds the fountain than is found elsewhere, 
With many elements of heat around ; 
Hence when the night o'ershadowed hath the Earth 
With its dew-dropping shades, the Earth below 



Book VI. ( 287 

Grows cool around, as 'twere by force compressed, 
And to the fountain drains its seeds of heat 
That mingling with it warm its liquid flow. 
But when the sun with risen rays direct, 
With ardent influence rarefies the earth, 
The glowing atoms quick resume their seats ; 
And hence the spring grows cool along the day. 
Besides, the water pierced by solar rays, 
And ardency of tremulous light, expands ; 
Releasing what it holds of fiery seeds — 
As oft it renders up the binding frost, 
Dissolves the ice, unknits the rigid bond. 

A fount there even is in Dodona 
That fires light tufts of tow brought near, that they 
Float on the surface an inflamed torch — 
Truly because innumerous seeds of heat 
Caught in the wave rise with it from below, 
Though not of ardency to warm its flow. 
Some secret power compels them to burst forth 
And to unite ; as the sweet water of 
Aradian spring forth gushes in the sea, 
And puts aside, around, the bitter wave. 
And thus in many places of the wide salt sea 
Sweet waters bubble up amid the brine, 
Grateful resource to thirsty mariners. 
So it may be that seeds of fire concealed 
Through that cold fount may rise, and when they join, 
Forthwith the torch inflames ; since in itself 



288 Titus Lucretius Car us. 

The pitchy torch holds many seeds of heat. 
For see you not when the extinguished wick 
Approaches burning lamp, forthwith the flame 
Leaps to it and lights up before 'tis touched — 
And many things before the fire attains 
Burst into flame when full infused with heat ; 
So must we think it happens with the fount. 

And now to tell by whi:h of Nature's laws, 
The stone called Magnet by the Greeks, — since first 
'Mong the Magnesians found, — can iron draw. 
Men gaze with wonder on the marvellous stone, 
With pendent chain of rings, oft five or more, 
Light hanging in the air suspensive, while 
One from another feels the influence of the stone, 
That sends through all its wonder-working power. 
Here many principles we must first lay down 
And slow approach by long preparative, 
Rightly to solve the rare phenomenon. 
The more exact I then attentive ears. 

First, from all things that are to sight revealed, 
Bodies corporeal must perpetual flow, 
That strike the eye, and sense of vision wake. 
So odors flow from things od'riferous, 
Congealing cold from ice ; from sun, fierce heat. 
While briny vapors rising from the sea, 
Corroding, waste the walls along our shores, 
And mingled sounds cease not to float in air. 



Book VI I 289 

A savor salt comes to us near the sea, 

And bitter flavor where they absinth bruise. 

Thus from all things thronged emanations flow — 

Unintermitted from all sides must flow, 

Since always we perceive, and smell, and hear. 

Now I recall what in my early verse 
Established was, that all contains a void. 
Truth pertinent to much, but most required 
In such discussions as now claim our care — 
That all sense knows is body mixed with void. 
For see in caves the hanging rocks above 
Sweat moisture, and distil the frequent drops ; 
See perspiration from our bodies pour, 
Beard push, and downy hair invest the limbs. 
See food diffused through veins, nurture and build 
Our bodies' extreme parts, e'en to the nails. 
See heat and cold free permeate the cup — 
Silver or gold — held brimming in the hand. 
Sounds traverse rock-built walls ; fleet odors float 
In air ; through all the nipping cold pervade — 
While heat subduing, penetrates e'en steel. 
Though girt our body round with mailed coat, 
Yet fierce disease will make its way within. 
Tempests and storms that in the air have birth — 
Or in the Earth — through Earth and air disport ; 
Since all's with penetrable tissue wove. 

And furthermore, the emanations are 
19 



290 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Not like endowed, nor act alike on all. 

The sun that indurates the cloddy earth 

Dissolves the ice ; and from the lofty hills 

Its thawing rays bring down the piled-up snows, 

And melt the wax exposed to its blaze. 

The heat, that liquefies iron or gold, 

Hardens and shrivels up all flesh and hides. 

Water, that hardens steel plunged from the fire, 

Softens the leather hardened by the fire. 

The olive wild, than which no tree to man 

Bears bitterer fruit, the bearded goat delights. 

Here further truth must be premised, ere we 
Attempt to solve magnetic properties. 
All varied things are penetrated by 
Unnumbered pores, differing in all ; and thus 
Each its own nature has and passages : 
Hence various senses animals endow, 
And each perceives its own appropriate thing ; 
And diverse come, or sound, or taste, or smell. 
Besides, some things are seen to pass through rocks ; 
Some traverse wood, or brass, silver or gold, 
While some a glancing passage have through glass. 
Here darts an image, and there passes heat, 
As is determined by the winding cells. 
The inner structures and involved pores 
Of unlike natures, textures all unlike. 

These truths laid down, light labor will suffice 



Book VI. 291 

To show the law — unfold the hidden cause 

By which the magnet can attract the steel. 

First, from the stone innumerous atoms flow, 

In streams that form an atmosphere around, 

Displacing air between it and the stone. 

Thus rarefied, the space, the particles 

Of metal press, vacated place to fill, 

And drag with them the mass to which they 're joined ; 

For nothing is than steel more closely knit, 

Nor more compacted in its elements : 

Hence, little wonder, if, as said before, 

The particles thus streaming to the void 

Should drag with them along the chain entire ! 

And this they do ; drag it to magnet stone, 

Whereto it close adheres by secret bond. 

And this on every side occurs — above, 

Below, transverse — where'er a void is found, 

Immediate atoms stream into the place, ' 

Since on all sides they are by impulse urged, 

Nor can themselves rise vapor-like in air. 

And add to this what more the motion aids, 

The ring of air thus rarefied in front, 

Space thus despoiled behind ; straight follows that 

The rearward air propels it from behind ; 

For air encompassing, beats perforce on all, 

And moves the stone, since on one side a void 

Is open wide its substance to receive. 

And this same air-light, subtle minister, 

Insinuate through pores, impels the steel 



292 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

As drives the wind the sail distended ship. 
Besides, all bodies must within hold air, 
Since they are porous, and air all surrounds. 
The air thus hid within the iron mass 
Is ever with a tremulous motion urged, 
Hence with internal impulse drives the ring 
Toward the void, for there its efforts tend. 

Sometimes the steel starts sudden from the stone ; 
Sometimes 'tis wont to fly, and then pursue. 
As you may see, the rings of Samothrace 
Leap up, and filings in a brazen cup 
Dance when magnetic stone draws near below, 
With seeming longing struck to fly the stone, 
The tumult caused by interposed brass. 
Since radiant brazen emanations first, 
Coming seize on the iron's open pores ; 
Follows thereon magnetic tide, and finds 
Preoccupied the space ; hence cannot flow 
Free as before through pores ; thence 'tis its waves 
Beat 'gainst the iron's substance, and repels, 
Acting on it through interposed brass — 
Repels what else its nature would attract. 

Nor need you wonder that magnetic tides 
Act not on other things ; for some there are 
Held fast by weight, as is the ponderous gold. 
And some of such attenuate and thin 
Consistency, they lend its waves no hold. 



Book VI. 293 

Such is the porous wood ; while iron holds 

An intermediate form, well-fitted thus 

To own the influence of magnetic powers. 

Nor are such facts without analogy ; 

For many things like adaptation show. 

The rocks by lime alone cemented are ; 

And wood close joined with the adhesive glue, 

That sooner will the plank its substance part 

Than yield the joint knit with the glutinous bond. 

How coalesces, too, water with wine, 

Which yet stiff pitch and the light oil rejects. 

The sea-shell's purple juice merges with wool, 

So with its substance joined 'twill not depart, 

Though washed it were in all the ocean's waves. 

One thing alone silver and gold cements ; 

And brass, by pewter, may be joined with brass. 

And many such like cases could I cite ; 

But for what end ? For sure, befits it not, 

To weary you with tedious details, 

Nor me to wear out time on single theme, 

But briefly much in fewest words embrace. 

Those then whose textures correspondent are, 

As the projecting to those mined with holes, 

Are closest joined and most compactly knit ; 

While some are interlocked with rings and hooks ; 

As seems the case of iron with the stone. 

And now I tell whence dire diseases come ; 
How pestilence, marshalled in deadly power, 



294 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

Bears death upon its wings to man and beast. 

First, then the air teems, as I've taught, with seeds 

Divers, some favoring life, but many more 

Fraught with disease and death ; chance gathered, these 

Infect the sky, malignant make the air — 

For pestilence dire, and all diseases' power 

Come from afar through air, a deadly breath ; 

Or a miasma rises from the ground, 

Where stagnant waters mantle and ferment 

In noisome pools under the brooding sun. 

And see you not how, tried by change of sky 
And water, those who wander far from home ? 
So great in them is their diversity ! 
How differs Britain's clime from that which hangs 
O'er Egypt, where the Earth's great axle slopes ! 
How eastern Pontus, and Gades the west, 
From burning regions of the tawny tribes ! 
As the four quarters differ of the world, 
Under four winds and aspects of the sky, 
So differ men in color and in traits. 
So differ, too, the thick troops of disease; 
Thus leprosy has birth in Egypt, on 
The banks of slimy Nile, and no where else. 
The joints with gout in Attica are racked ; 
Sight suffers most in Achia ; and thus 
Each place is hostile to some limb or part, 
As varied are their shadowing sky and clime. 



Book VI. 295 

When, where'er bred, the dire malignancy 
Glides gradual, mist-like, with a noiseless foot, 
Corrupting all the air with tainted breath, 
And reaching us, it hostile makes our sky. 
Then sudden sinks a pestilential power 
Upon the waters, and upon the fruits — 
The food of man ; the pasturage of beasts ; 
So hangs in air, the pestilence drawn in 
At every breath, and glides to seat of life. 
In the same way, the deadly murrain comes 
With devastation on the bleating flocks. 
Nor matters it whether we bear ourselves 
To adverse climes, and change our shadowing sky, 
Or whether Nature unaccustomed airs 
Brings sudden on us with malignant breath ; 
In both we walk encompassed with death. 

Such the disease — such the death-bearing gales 
That erst funereal made Cecropian plains, 
Depopulous her towns — her streets desert. 
Coming from Egypt's borders far withdrawn, 
Wide regions traversing of flood and air, 
It camped at length under Athenian walls, 
And gave her citizens in troops to death. 
The eyes were blood-shot with suffused glare, 
The throat's recesses black exuding gore, 
The voice's passages with ulcers clogged ; 
The tongue, the mind's interpreter, sweat blood, 
With sufferings unstrung, slow-moving, rough to touch. 



296 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

When through the throat congested was the breast, 

The poison soon o'erflowed the sufferer's heart. 

Then sunk at once each barrier and defence, 

And all within the intricate wards of life 

Gave way. The breath cadaverous comes as when 

Projected corse with fcetor loads the air. 

Prostrate at once the mind and living powers, 

The body languished in the jaws of death ; 

Anxious distress the while — complaints with groans 

Attendant on insufferable ills. 

Convulsive hiccoughs through the night and day, 

Unintermitting, seized and racked the limbs ; 

Upon the surface no excess of heat 

Could be perceived ; warmth only to the touch, 

As when Erysipelas corrodes the limbs ; 

Within, the fever to the vitals raged, 

And to the bones, and like a furnace glowed. 

No covering — not the lightest could the limbs support ; 

Cold and fresh gales ever un'vailing sought. 

Many, their limbs on fire with the disease, 

Would cast their bodies naked in the wave ; 

While many, rushing with wide-gaping mouths, 

Leaped headlong into wells and steeped therein, 

While thirst, with cravings unappeasable, 

Made largest draughts no better than the least. 

No respite found ; the weary bodies lay, 

Victims of ills irremediable, while 

The vanquished physician with his idle art, 

Muttered low doubts, or silent stood through fear. 



Book VI. 297 

Unvisited by sleep through the long night, 
Their blood-shot eyes in burning sockets rolled. 

"Then many signs precursors were of Death, 
That stalked at large with frightful images. 
The conscious mind with anguish tossed, and fear, 
Knit eye-brows with a fixed, delirious look ; 
The tortured ears besieged with horrid sounds ; 
The breathing quick, or loud and slowly drawn ; 
A clammy sweat glistened about the throat ; 
The scant saliva thick and saffron tinged. 
A labored cough forced through rough parched throat, 
Hands ceaseless twitching, and convulsed the limbs ; 
An ominous cold crept upward from the feet 
By slow degrees, till neared the fatal hour. 
Nostrils compressed, pointed and sharp the nose, 
With hollow eyes, sunk temples, rigid skin, 
The thin lips set in fixed, ghastly grin, 
The forehead tense and swollen, till at length 
They stiffened lay in death ; with the eighth sun 
Or with the ninth they yielded up their life. 
Or, if the sufferer 'scaped so prompt a death ; 
The plague, bursting in horrid ulcers and 
In foul discharges, brought his doom consumptive — 
When the corrupted blood from nostrils flowed, 
With it flowed too the sufferer's strength and life. 
Or if relief was found from such outflow, 
The dire disease straight fell on nerves, or limbs, 
Or genitals ; and some fearing to face their fate, 



20)% Titus Lucretius Carus. 

'Scaped by their sacrifice to trenchant knife ; 
Some held on life with loss of hands or feet, 
Or loss of sight; seized with such dread of death ; 
Some lived, their conscious memory effaced, 
The past forgot, not knowing e'en themselves. 

Though corses piled on corses on the ground 
Unburied lay, no bird or beast of prey 
Ventured approach ; or if they touched they died ; 
For in those dismal times no bird was seen 
To wing the air ; no beast that wons in wilds, 
Night-prowling dared to creep from covert woods. 
Unnumbered, struck with pestilence they died — - 
And chief the faithful dog, sharer with man 
In ill, infected lay along the public ways, 
Till from gaunt limbs disease wrenched out their 

lives. 
Vain all appliances that sought relief; 
For what to some prolonged a failing life, 
To others prompt destruction deals and death. 

And what in scenes so piteous and so sad, 
Most sad and piteous was — all those attacked, 
With prostrate souls and hearts desponding lay 
Waiting for death, as if already doomed, 
And unresisting yielded up their breath. 
And further this, that at no time they ceased 
To take the contagion of the gaunt disease, 
Like woolly flocks, or stricken horned kine. 



Book VI. 299 

And this it was most heaped death upon death ; 
For all the while the dire contagion spread, 
Nor ceased its dreadful tread from victim felled 
To other victim fated to like fall. 
E'en those who, basely loving life too well, 
Fled craven from the sight of strickened friends, 
Soon wailed, deserted, void of help and care, 
Their base and brutal selfishness — they died 
The death of brutes, forlorn of hope — and those 
Whose prompt alacrity the danger braved, 
Who ruled by love and duty, or constrained 
By tones of suffering and the low complaint, 
Stayed by the sick to minister relief, 
Took the contagion in their work humane. 
Thus sunk the best, long struggling, but compelled 
To add another to their buried dead ; 
They to lone homes returned, worn out with grief, 
And filled with anguish sank upon their beds. 
None could be found in that so direful time, 
Whom neither loss of friends, or fell disease, 
Or sympathizing grief, had caused to mourn. 

Shepherds and herdsmen were struck down alike ; 
The sturdy ploughmen in their narrow huts, 
Huddled and packed their limbs in noisome lairs, 
Yielded to death from poverty and disease. 
Here might be seen in ghastly groups around, 
The lifeless parents sunk on lifeless sons, 
Their children lying on dead parents die. 



300 Titus Lucretius Carus. 

And what new aggravation brought was this : 

All the afflicted streamed from fields to town — 

The stricken crowds of husbandmen poured in, 

Assembling the disease from every side, 

They filled all buildings, streets, and squares ; and 

more 
They gathered, more death piled in heaps. 
Many, devoured by thirst along the ways, 
Dragged squalid bodies to the water-pipes, 
And died through madness of excessive draughts. 
And many might be seen in streets and squares, 
Horrid with filth and covered up with rags, 
Perish by slow degrees, till naught but skin 
Hangs on their wasted frames, while green gangrene 
And mining ulcers eat what was the grave's. 

And now, by strangers thronged, the shrines of 
gods, 
Made hospitals, with corses were defiled, 
And all the temples stood heaped with the dead. 
Religion knew no sanctity ; no god 
Received a vow; impending grief overpowered 
All former feelings, habits, and regards — 
No decent rites of sepulture remained 
In the doomed city as before was wont — 
Short funeral trains contentious crowd the ways ; 
The population terror-stricken quailed ; 
Each mourner as he could buried his dead ; 
While horrid urgency and want impelled 



Book VI. 301 

Some to revolting violence and wrong ; 
Rather than leave their dead deserted, they 
With dismal cries hurried their kinsman's corse, 
To pile for others reared, and torch applied ; 
Whence bloody frays arose, and fights and brawls 
Usurped the place of reverential rites. 



END OF BOOK VI. 



NOTES. 



NOTES. 



BOOK I. 



Page 35. 
" Mother of Romans ! joy of men and gods ! " 

Most readers of this opening address must have been struck with its 
curious contrast with the poet's philosophical principles. The intense ear- 
nestness of the language, — the words plain and simple in themselves s yet in- 
stinct with life and passion, makes us feel that it is something more than an 
impersonation of the active energy of Nature. If the poet began with such 
an intention, his headstrong Muse got the better of his philosophy and com- 
pelled him to follow her guidance. This, perhaps, is his best defence, if 
defence be needed. Montaigne (Essay iii. 5) has well conceived the charac- 
teristic features of this passage. Quoting its most vivid expression, he says 
he is disgusted with the point and verbal allusions that have since pre- 
vailed. How tame Spenser's elegant paraphrase (Fairy Queen, B. iv. 
C. 10) and Dryden's translation are by the side of the original. — Munro. 

Lucretius, though more free than any other ancient writer from the direct 
influence of religious traditions, yet his thoughts are shaped by the same 
imaginative impressions as gave birth to the old mythologies. In this 
address to the vital powers of Nature, he is under the influence of these 
associations. In this invocation there is a combination of poetical illus- 
tration, of symbolical representation, and sincere conviction. There is in it 
an acknowledgment of a living power independent of and superior to man, 
and to which man, as all other creatures, is subject. — Sellars. 

His master Epicurus did not forbid sacrifice and prayer to the gods, 
though, as has been said, Lucretius prays here not as a philosopher but as a 
poet. 

Page 38. 
" I fear lest yoti perchance should think 
Pm e7itering on the elements of vice.'''' 

It is interesting to observe that the relation of physical inquiry to relig- 
ious belief agitated in modern times, and which has risen into greater prom- 
inence in connection with the increased study of Nature, had its parallel in 
20 



306 Notes. 

ancient times, when objections against such inquiry were urged on the 
ground of its impiety, as we see in such passages as this. — Sellars. 

Page 38. 
" She falls a victim by a father's hand" 

This may be compared with a passage in a celebrated chorus in the 
"Agamemnon" of ^Eschylus, where the same subject is treated; though 
we find here very slight, if any, traces of imitation. 

Page 39. 
" Whether born with us, or infused at birth.'''' 

Two theories of the origin of the soul : the true one, that it is born with 
the body ; the false one, that it enters the body at the body's birth. 
Three theories of the soul after death : First, the true one, that it dies 
with the body. Secondly, the false one, that it enters Orcus. Thirdly, 
the equally false one, that it migrates into some other living creature. 

Page 40. 
" Those terrors, and that darkness of the mind." 

These terrors must be dispelled by a knowledge of Nature, whose first 
principle is, that nothing can be produced from nothing by divine power. 
Aristotle again and again declares this to be common to all physiologists. 
These verses are repeated in the 2d, 3d, and 6th books, and form in 
fact the key-stone of Epicurean philosophy. — Munro. 

Page 41. 

" For if from nothing anything could spring, 
All living things we see might take their birth 
Indifferently fro?n all. ' ' 

This, from the nature of the case, is rather a full statement of what he 
means by "nothing can come from nothing," than a proof; his theory 
of fixed, unchangeable seeds of things or atoms, he subsequently demon- 
strates with masterly clearness and power. Some of his arguments even 
Newton seems not to have disdained to borrow. — Munro. 

Page 45. 
" Although the showers that Father Ether pours." 
From the Vedas to the " Pervigilium Veneris," poets and philosophers 



Notes. 307 

love to celebrate this union of ether and earth : ether as the father descend- 
ing in showers into the lap of mother earth. The notion naturally had 
birth in warm climates, such as India ; where the excessive heat at stated 
periods seemed to bring the ether down in abundant rains, which at once 
quickened all things. This notion, too, has induced Lucretius, here and 
elsewhere, to forget or suppress for the moment his calm, cloudless, un- 
sullied ether, and confound it with this upper generator of heat and rain. — 
Munro. 

Page 45. 
"From one's destruction builds another up" 

Lucretius is fond of this doctrine, that the destruction of one thing is the 
birth of another, and that the uniformity of Nature is thereby maintained. 
He doubtless had running in his thoughts the old dogma of the physici, 
more than once asserted by Aristotle, that the destruction of one was the 
birth of another. 

Page 51. 

" All Nature of two essences consists > 
Matter and void." 

All the philosophers of the fifth century B.C., prior to Socrates, in- 
heriting from their earliest poetical predecessors the vast unmeasured prob- 
lems which had once been solved by the supposition of divine or superhu- 
man agents, contemplated the world, physical and moral, all in a mass, and 
applied their minds to find some hypothesis which would give them an ex- 
planation of this totality, or, at least, appease curiosity by something which 
looked like an explanation. What were the elements out of which sensi- 
ble things were made ? What was the initial cause or principle of those 
changes? Was it generation of something integrally new and destruction 
of something pre-existent, or was decomposition and recombination of ele- 
ments still continuing ? The theories of the various Ionic philosophers, 
and of Empedocles after them, admitting one, two, or four elementary sub- 
stances, with Friendship and Enmity to serve as cause of change or motion ; 
the Homceomeria of Anaxagoras, with Nous or Intelligence as the stirring or 
regulating agent ; the Atoms and Void of Leucippus and Democritus, — all 
these were different hypotheses answering to a similar vein of thought. Ail 
these, though assuming that sensible appearances of things Avere delusive, 
were, nevertheless, borrowed more or less directly from some of these 
appearances, which were employed to illustrate and explain the whole 
theory. — Grote, History of Greece, viii. 341. 

After men had for a long time, in accordance with the earliest ideas of 



308 ' Notes. 

the Hellenic people, venerated the agency of spirits embodied in human 
forms, in the creative, changing, and destructive powers of nature, the germ 
of a scientific contemplation developed itself in the physiological fancies of 
the Ionic school. The first principles of the origin of things, the first prin- 
ciple of all phenomena, were referred to two causes : either the concrete 
material principles, the so-called principles of Nature, or the processes of 
rarefaction and condensation. 

The hypothesis of four or five materially differing elements, which was 
probably of Indian origin, has continued, from the era of the didactic poem 
of Empedocles down to the most recent times, to imbue all opinions on 
natural philosophy — a primeval evidence and monument of the tendency 
of the human mind to seek a generalization and simplification of ideas, not 
only with reference to the forces, but also to the qualitative nature of 
matter. 

In the later period of the development of the Ionic philosophy, Anax- 
agoras advanced from the postulate of simply dynamic forces of matter to 
the idea of a spirit independent of all matter uniting and distributing the 
homogeneous particles of which all matter is composed. The world-arrang- 
ing Intelligence {yovi) controls the continually progressing formation of 
the world, and is the primary source of all motion, and therefore of all phys- 
ical phenomena. — Humboldt, Cosmos, iii. 9. 

Page 51. 
"An essence third to these is itowhere found." 

Lucretius affirms that nothing exists but matter and void ; and under- 
takes to show that every fact in the world can be explained by the proper- 
ties of matter, and that matter itself may be conceived as possessed of very 
few simple properties, from the combination of which the complex facts we 
see may follow. Of course, he fails to do this; but if the proposition be 
restricted to what are called physical phenomena, it becomes, if not cer- 
tainly true, nevertheless an hypothesis well worthy of consideration and not 
yet proved false. Lucretius admits no subtle ethers, no variety of elements 
with fiery, watery, light, heavy principles ; he does not suppose light to be 
one thing, fire another, electricity a fluid, magnetism a vital principle, 
but treats all phenomena as mere properties or accidents of simple matter. 
—North British Review, March, 1868. 

Page 52. 
" Time in itself exists not" 
Time, says Bacon, is the great innovator ; but, as Whateley observes, 



Notes. 309 

though this is a convenient and allowable way of speaking, effects are pro- 
duced not by time but in time. In reality, says Coppleston, "time does 
nothing and is nothing ; we use it as a compendious expression for all those 
causes that operate slowly ; but unless some positive cause is in operation 
no change takes place in a thousand years." Out of the physical laws of 
nature, and the operation of the brute creation, there is no agent but man. 

Pages 54, 55. 
" Primor -dials, strong 
In their simplicity, eternal are." 

Two opinions have prevailed from the earliest times respecting the con- 
stitution of body : that which supposes its entire homogeneousness, and that 
which regards it as consisting of material parts or atoms separated by void 
spaces, these parts being indivisible. The ]ast is the doctrine of Democri- 
tus and Epicurus ; and, in modern times, of Bacon, Newton, and Dalton. 
Newton, near the end of his Optics, thus expresses himself: " It seems 
probable to me that God in the beginning formed matter in solid, massy, 
hard, impenetrable, movable particles, of such sizes and figures, and with 
such other properties and in such proportion to space, as most conduced to 
the end for which He formed them ; and that these primitive particles 
being solid, are incomparably harder than any porous bodies compounded of 
them, even so very hard as never to wear or break in pieces." He says 
again further : "All bodies seem to be composed of hard particles — even 
the rays of light — and, therefore, hardness may be reckoned the property 
of all uncompounded matter." And further may be quoted in illustration 
of Lucretius: "While the particles continue entire, they may compose 
bodies of one and the same texture in all ages ; but should they wear away 
or break in pieces, the nature of things dependent on them would be 
changed ; and therefore, that Nature maybe lasting, the changes of corpo- 
real things are to be placed only in the various separations and new asso- 
ciations and motions of these permanent particles." His particles agree in 
every point with those of Lucretius, except in attributing to them different 
densities and forces. 

The constancy of all phenomena is an unanswerable argument as proving 
the existence of some inalterable basis of matter. Unless there be some- 
thing indestructible and indivisible in sodium, how could it retain every 
physical property of sodium? so that, for instance, when glowing with heat 
it shall continually ring out, as it were, the same note of light, imparting 
vibrations that paint the well-known double yellow line in the spectrum. 
All men of science believe, consciously or not, in atoms indivisible and in- 
destructible. 



3 JO Notes. 

Page 56. 
" Moreover, since there's an extreme part of that." 

A passage necessarily obscure, because dealing with one of those questions 
which utterly elude the grasp of human reason. Epicurus, building up his 
dogmatic system, and hating all scepticism on first principles, determined 
that his atoms should have size, shape, weight, and therefore extension. 
But if extension, then parts : but how can that which has parts be indivisi- 
ble ? This is the question which Lucretius here answers. He seeks to 
maintain at the same time that cardinal point in Epicurean physics, that 
atoms are impenetrable and indestructible, and yet possessed of weight, 
shape, and extension, and to show how particles thus endowed are incapa- 
ble of further division. Atoms have parts, but these parts are minima not 
|-, able to exist alone ; abiding therefore in the atom from all eternity in un- 
changeable juxtaposition. 

Mr. Munro thus clears up the doctrine held by Lucretius, which has been 
grievously misunderstood. He quotes in further illustration from a great 
philosopher, Henry More, on the immortality of the soul, Preface. "I 
have taken the boldness to assert that matter consists of parts indiscerptible, 
that is, particles that have indeed real extension, but so little that they can- 
not have less and be anything at all, and therefore cannot be actually 
divided ; they are divisible only intellectually ; it being of the very essence 
of whatever is, to have parts or extension in some measure or other ; for 
to take away all extension is to reduce a thing only to a mathematical 
point, which is nothing else but pure negation or nonentity. It is plain 
that what is intellectually divisible may yet be indiscerptible. Indeed, it is 
not only possible, but it seems necessary it should be true." One of the 
latest and best teachers (Birks on Matter and Ether, hi. 31) defines 
atoms as the dual particles of matter and ether, combined inseparably, 
which constitute the first or ultimate elements of all ponderable substances ; 
these by their dynamical action produce the effects of Epicurus' statical 
atoms. — Munro. 

The mystery is as great to-day as it was in the age of Lucretius. In 
truth, it may be said that we know nothing of the ultimate constitution of 
matter — the atom itself is a pure assumption. Still, the latest researches of 
science into the inner mechanism of the atom seem to point to the carrying 
out of what has been called by high authority (Sir William Thompson) 
the grand conception of Lucretius, that all phenomena are mere properties 
or accidents of simple matter. 

Page 56. 
" Primordials, then, solid and single are, 
Compacted of those close-cohering parts. " 

The description of the Lucretian atom is wonderfully applicable to the 



Notes. 3 1 1 

chemical atom, the existence of which, already quite a complex little world, 
is highly probable. We are not wholly without hope that the real weight of 
each atom may some day be known, and their number in each material ; 
that the form and motion of the parts of each atom, and the distance they 
are separated, may be calculated ; that the motions by which they produce 
light, heat, and electricity may be illustrated by exact geometrical diagrams; 
then the motion of the spheres will be neglected for a while, in admiration 
of the maze in which the tiny atoms turn. Yet when we have found a 
mechanical theory by which the phenomena of inorganic matter can be 
mathematically deduced from the motion of materials endowed with a few 
simple properties, we must not forget that Democritus, Leucippus, and 
Epicurus began the work ; and we may even now recognize their merit, and 
acknowledge Lucretius not only as a great poet, but as the clear expositor 
of a very remarkable theory of the constitution of matter. — North British 
Review, 1868. 

Page 57. 
" What difference, then, between the small and great. 
The universal whole and its minutest part 
Would equal be." 

Each will alike have infinite parts and by the old paralogism would be 
equal, because all infinites are equal. Newton, in his second letter to 
Bentley, admirably refutes the fallacy, giving at the same time its clearest 
exposition. He says: " I conceive the paralogism lies in the position that 
all infinites are equal. The generality of mankind consider infinites in no 
other way than indefinitely ; and in this sense they say that all infinites are 
equal ; though they would speak more truly if they should say they are 
neither equal nor unequal, nor have any certain difference or proportion 
one to another. In this sense, therefore, no conclusion can be drawn from 
them about the equality, proportions or differences of things; and they 
that attempt to do it usually fall into paralogisms." 

Page 57. 
"Hence, those who fire the primal matter deem.'''' 

Lucretius, having now established his two great principles of an unchange- 
able matter and void, before he proceeds to explain by them the nature of 
things, first, in order to make their truth still more manifest, examines the 
elements of Heraclitus, Empedocles, Anaxagoras, and other philosophers, 
and shows their utter inefficiency. Of all these men he speaks with admi- 
ration or tolerance, except Heraclitus, whom he assails with a certain pas- 
sion and violence. Now that the star of the old Ephesian seems again in 



3 1 2 Notes. 

the ascendant, such an attack will not meet with much sympathy. The 
motive, however, is plain enough. In him he is combating the Stoics, the 
bitter enemies of Epicurus, Heraclitus standing in the same relation to 
them that Democritus stands to Epicurus. One in the position of Lucre- 
tius could only see and criticise a rival philosopher from his own point of 
view. — Munro. 

Page 59. 
" Belief yielding to sense as proving fire.'''' 

That Heraclitus taught that the senses could not truly discern things is 
certain ; but in what sense he affirmed that the senses could perceive fire, 
truly, is far from clear. Lucretius could not have affirmed what he does 
here, without having some expression of Heraclitus to warrant the conclu- 
sion. Did Heraclitus teach that the ever-living fire represented motion 
self-engendered, which in a thousand ways, in the human body and through 
the whole of nature, produces heat or fire ? Compare with this certain late 
theories of the origin of caloric and the sun's heat ; all things else are 
phases of motion thwarted or turned aside from its natural course. Fire 
alone gives to sense some apprehension of the real fire and movement at the 
bottom of all things. — Munro. 

Page 60. 
" Of whom the sage Empedocles is chief." 

Empedocles (flourished 440 B.C.) first broached the doctrine of four ele- 
ments, in a poem entitled 7tepi cpvdeco?. Lucretius no doubt looked upon 
Empedocles' poem as in some sense his poetical model, and therefore 
thought he owed him a debt of gratitude. With many differences, there 
were also many points of resemblance between their two systems ; this 
especially, that the first beginnings of each were imperishable, and that life 
and death were but the passing to and fro of elements into things and 
things into elements. All this being considered, we may grant that his lofty 
panegyric is justified by the large fragments we possess of Empedocles' chief 
poem. — Munro. 

Page 64. 
"And now the scheme of Anaxagoras." 

The homceomeria in the philosophy of Anaxagoras (the friend and teacher 
of Pericles) were the homogeneous elements of the universe. Lucretius seems 
to denote by the term the relation which existed between the things in being 
and the particles like in kind of which they were composed. His particles 
were infinite in number and in smallness ; from the nature of the case every- 
thing was mixed with everything except only his vov c .. Each individual 



Notes. 3 1 3 

thing is what it is, by having in it the greatest number of particles like to 
it in kind. Lucretius pushes the argument to what he deems the last ab- 
surdity — that of endowing first -beginnings with human feelings. Modern 
philosophers have thought to perceive in the homceomeria theory the germs 
of important discoveries of cohesion and affinity. Lucretius passes over in 
noticing this doctrine its main feature of importance, that vovl — spirit, 
mind, intelligence — was the first principle of motion. 

Anaxagoras assumed, like all Greek philosophers, matter in a state of 
chaos. But he was the first to perceive that something more was necessary 
to account for existing things. Cohesion of particles was not sufficient ; 
there must be a combining power. The particles could not themselves be 
the cause of change in their own position and relations. He clearly an- 
nounced that at first all things were in chaos till vovZ — Intelligence — 
set them in order and turned chaos into a universe. He was consequently 
the first to proclaim, as Cuvier says, that Spirit rules Matter. 

Page 66. 
"And now, the truth more clearly spoke7t, hear ! " 

The poet having explained the nature of his two great principles of atoms 
and void, and shown the insufficiency of those of rival teachers, he now, 
before proceeding to apply these principles to explaining the system of the 
universe, calls attention to his theme in this lofty exordium. He then goes 
on to show that atoms are infinite in number, and space is infinite in ex- 
tent. There can, of course, be, properly speaking, no proof of this, as 
Lucretius has wisely seen. It must, from the nature of the case, be shown 
by a series of propositions, call them as you please, definitions, postulates, 
or axioms. These propositions are, however, most clearly put by him 
when rightly interpreted. — Munro. 

Page 70. 
" Sure not by design, or a prescient causes'* 

It is mere blind chance, not Providence, that has arranged out of atoms 
this world and other worlds. Notwithstanding this denial of Providence, 
the philosophy of the poem ultimately rests upon the most certain of all 
our conceptions, that of universal order or law in nature. The idea of 
law is prior to, and the condition of, all the principles announced in regard 
to the nature and properties of matter. In reality, the cardinal truth which 
Lucretius proclaimed was that creation was no result of chance or of a ca- 
pricious exercise of power, but arose out of certain regular and orderly 
processes, dependent upon certain primal conditions, of which no further 



3H Notes. 

account can be given. His idea of these ultimate conditions, if less strictly 
logical, is broader and more vital than a belief either in blind chance or an 
iron fatalism. A secret power or force, analogous to volition in man, is 
conceived to be inherent in the primal atom, by means of which creation is 
able to break from the chains of fate into a more free development. The 
idea of law in nature, as understood by Lucretius, is not the same as that 
of invariable sequence or concomitance of phenomena. It implies at least 
the further idea of power ; and this leads up, necessarily though not con- 
sciously realized by him, to the wider and higher idea of will ; and is in no 
way inconsistent with the convictions of modern Theism. — Sellars. 



Page 71. 
" And here, my Memmius, guard against belief 
Of what some say, ' that to the centre tend 
All things:'" 

It is the Stoics, doubtless, Lucretius here mainly attacks, though the 
Peripatetics and some others held a similar doctrine. They taught that 
there was but one finite world surrounded by an infinite void, and that the 
world was upheld in the way Lucretius here so clearly explains, by all things 
pressing to the centre. Had Epicurus, while retaining his conceptions of 
infinite space and matter, and innumerable worlds and systems, seen fit to 
adopt this stoical doctrine of things tending to a centre, and so to make 
his atoms rush from all sides of space alike toward a centre, he might have 
anticipated the doctrine of universal gravity. — See further, note, page 86. 



BOOK II. 

Page 77. 
tl And see you not how little Nature craves:'' 

Epicurus says that the pleasure which was his end was the body free 
from pain and the mind free from care — that the body should not suffer or 
the mind be disturbed: — that most so-called pleasures only cause bodily pain 
and prevent genuine pleasure ; the absence of pain is the foundation of all 
pleasure, and a very small positive addition of pleasure wilt be all that is 
required. All violent emotion, all care and anxiety was to be avoided, all 
artificial desires to be controlled as inimical to the tranquillity of the soul. 
Epicurus denied the power of luxury to give happiness — says that these are 



Notes. 315 

not the things that afford pleasure, but the sole exercise of reason investi- 
gating causes why we choose or avoid anything, and banishing those opin- 
ions which cause trouble in the soul. When we consider how much misery 
has been occasioned in all ages by mental delusions, irrational opinions, and 
blind passions, who will say that there was not great need of such philoso- 
phy. 

Page 78. 

" Relief from pain spreads pleasure in its stead." 

This is the Platonic theory of pleasure and pain — that pleasure is nothing 
positive, but a mere relation to, a mere negation of pain ; that pain is tht 
root, the antecedent of pleasure. Phsedon. — Montaigne says our states of 
pleasure are only the negation of our states of pain ; and Kant says pleas- 
ure is always a consequence of pain. 



Page 78. 

" Though in your halls no golden statues bear." 

An ideal description of a Roman palace, adapted from Homer's descrip- 
tion of the gardens and palace of Alsinous in the Odyssey. 

Page 79. 
" And now, to tell how moving, primal seed." 

He here assumes the inherent motion of atoms as the first requisite in 
the production of things. 

Lucretius finds in motion the source of energy or origin of power found 
in Nature. He assumes that motion is the sole form of energy, and with- 
out expressly stating it, that atoms are elastic; the molecules of gross 
matter are made up of atoms in rapid motion. By this he represented en- 
ergy. And if this be not universally true, it is probably true for many cases. 

Page 80. 
"And, like to runners in the Grecian game.'''' 

The well-known metaphor of Plato, from the torch race of the Athenians, 
who compares the torch to the successive transmission of life from genera- 
tion to generation. Dugald Stewart applied the same image to the " great 
lights" of the world by whom the torch of science has been successively 
seized and transmitted. 



3i6 Notes. 

Page 82. 
"But deem not thou, for this, Intelligence." 

This passage must have been a subsequent addition loosely incorporated, 
and some verses are clearly wanting. As it stands it has no connection 
with what precedes or what follows. It is closely connected with the cog- 
nate passage in Book IV., where the doctrine of final causes in respect of 
the bodily organs is so strenuously denied. 

Page 84. 

" Unseated fall the stars.'''* 

It was the opinion of the ancients that the stars were fastened like nails 
in the crystal vault of heaven, and, loosened, glided as meteors. Aristotle 
frequently uses the term "riveted stars." 

Page 84. 
" They swerve a little from an equal poise." 

This is the famous doctrine of declination ; without it the atoms would 
have gone on for all eternity to descend in right lines. The reason for this 
doctrine will be seen in following notes. 

Page 85. 
"How could free will in animals exist ? " 

Epicurus always passionately maintained the doctrine of free will, in op- 
position to the everlasting necessity of Democritus and most of the Stoics. 



Page 86. 
"But that the mind^s volition is controlled 
By no necessity innate." 

Lucretius assigns the freedom of the will as the chief proof of this third 
motion ; the natural gravity of atoms gives them, he says, a certain inde- 
pendence and power of resisting extraneous force ; but the mind itself can 
only escape from inexorable necessity, and acquire freedom of action by 
this fitful declination of atoms. This theory has naturally enough drawn 
down on Epicurus the scoffs of his many adversaries. Even his friends 
have mostly here deserted him. Yet there is something grand and poetical 
in its very simplicity. He wished, like other thinkers, to derive his system 
from as few principles as possible ; a sentient first cause was to him incon- 



Notes. 317 

ceivable. This minimum of declination rose before his imagination as the 
simplest theory which would solve the great problem of being, of the crea- 
tion of this and all other worlds and all that is in them. What system- 
monger but somewhere or other reaches a point where reason must be 
silent or self-contradictory ? 

It has been ingeniously argued by Le Sage (Berlin Transactions for 1782) 
that had Epicurus had but part of the geometrical knowledge of, say his 
contemporary, Euclid, with the conceptions of cosmogony of many then 
living, he might have discovered the laws of universal gravity; and not 
only its laws, but, what was the despair of Newton, its mechanical cause. 
Had he supposed the earth to be spherical, and made his atoms move in 
directions perpendicular to the surface of a sphere, that is towards its cen- 
tre, he might not only have proved the law of the inverse square of the dis- 
tance, but have demonstrated the cause of that law. But the truth is Epi- 
curus might probably have left his worlds to shift for themselves, and let 
the eternal past time take the place of a first cause, if he had not wanted 
this theory mainly to explain the great mystery of free will ; he wished to 
mark this as one of the cardinal points of difference between himself and 
Democritus, whom Cicero praises for choosing to accept fate and necessity, 
rather than have recourse to such a doctrine as this of Epicurus. It is for 
this reason that Lucretius dwells at such length and with such emphasis on 
this part of the question ; out of respect to Democritus as well as opposi- 
tion to the Stoics. — Munro 

Page 90. 
" Touch, O ye sacred powers — 
Touch is the organ whence all k7iow ledge flows." 

This point is put with emphasis to show the vast importance of touch ; 
for not only nothing can touch or be touched without body, but conversely 
nothing can be perceived without touch. Touch is, therefore, the body's 
sense ; that is, the sole and only sense whenever the body has any feeling 
whatsoever. He then enumerates the different ways in which the body can 
feel. — Munro. 

Page 91. 
" Rise sweet and freshened in the sandy trench." 

Caesar thus obtained water for his army when besieged on the island at 
Alexandria. 

Page 98. 
" Natures divine, by necessary laws." 
That Epicurus and Lucretius firmly believed in the existence of these 



318 Notes. 

gods, is certain. How this immortality and supreme felicity can be recon- 
ciled with the rest of their philosophy it were vain to ask, for no answer 
could be given. 

In the verses that follow, "If any choose to give the name," etc., he 
doubtless points at the Stoics, who carried allegory of this kind to an ab- 
surd length. Every part of heaven was parcelled out among the gods and 
demi-gods, and fatuous derivations assigned to their names by Zeno and 
other leaders. — Munro. 

Page 105. 

" For see live worms creep from the putrid clod.'''' 

This illustration, important from his point of view, he often repeats. 
Aristotle and the old physiologists seem to accept it as an undoubted fact. 



Page 109. 
" We all are sprung from a celestial seedP 

The first part of this passage is a literal translation from Euripides, a 
scholar of Anaxagoras. We have already seen the antiquity of the doctrine, 
probably from the Vedas, that heaven is the father and earth the mother 
of all things. The whole of the passage is quite Epicurean and consistent 
with the general argument of Lucretius. What he means to say in his 
poetical language is this : so far from men and other animals requiring 
special sensible elements, they, like everything else on earth, come from the 
mingling of the elements of earth and ether ; and at their death these sense- 
less elements return whence they came, to be employed afresh in producing 
other things. — Munro. 

Page 112. 
" And since the deep-set boundary of life."" 

The argument seems to be, since all these things are mortal and had a 
beginning, they must be subject to the same conditions as other mortal 
things. In fact, Epicurus taught that innumerable worlds were daily com- 
ing into being and daily perishing. The book concludes by a contrast be- 
tween the inefficiency of the gods, who pass a calm time in tranquil peacep 
and the mighty power of the infinite sum of clashing atoms, now building 
up new worlds, now slowly, but inevitably, crumbling heaven and earth to 
dust by the unceasing aggression of their never-ending flood. Already our 
earth has begun to fail, and can no longer produce what it once did ; til- 
lers and vine-dressers spend their labor in vain, and regret the olden time, 
not knowing that the earth, like everything else, must come to its end. 



Notes. 319 



BOOK III. 

Page 119. 
" The gods divine in peaceful seats are seen." 

This passage is almost a literal translation from the description of the 
heavens in the Odyssey. That Epicurus and Lucretius believed in these 
" peaceful seats" is certain, but how they are consistent with their general 
system is as difficult to comprehend as the rest of their firm belief in gods. 

Page 123. 
tl A harmony called by Greeks." 

See this doctrine triumphantly refuted by Socrates in the Plisedon of 
Plato. It was held by Aristoxenus, a musician, a pupil of Aristotle, and 
others. They denied that the soul was anything but an empty name — like 
some modern philosophers who make the soul a series of sensations ; Lu- 
cretius, on the contrary, held that the soul was a distinct part of, and not 
a mere state of the body. 

Page 125. 
" And now, to tell of what, and how composed 
The soul." 

The ingenuity of ancient philosophers was exhausted in attempting to 
determine the nature of the soul and living principle. There was no one 
of the elements, except earth, which did not find its advocate in some theory 
of the soul. It was represented also as a combination of all elements, or 
as blood, or an intrinsic motion, or a harmony and conjunction of con- 
traries. Aristotle maintained the distinctness of body and soul, as two 
principles combined without defining what the soul is in itself. — Ency. 
Brit., art. "Aristotle." 

Page 125. 
"First, then, it is most subtle and minute" 

It is little worth while to controvert the psychological doctrines of our 
authors ; but it may be remarked that the materiality or immateriality of 
the soul does not in the least touch the question of its immortality. Since, 
as was said by Locke (" Essay on Human Understanding ") : It is evident 
that He who made us at the beginning to subsist here sensible, intelligent 
beings, whatever the real nature of the soul may be, can restore us to a 



320 Notes. 

like state of sensibility in another world. Or, according to the Christian 
doctrine of the resurrection, "After God shall have resolved our sullied 
manhood into its original dust, he shall gather it up again in a restored 
purity. Oh kindly and healing death ! which shall refine our mortal flesh 
to a spiritual body, and make our lower nature chime with the eternal will 
in faultless harmony ! " —Archbishop Manning. 



Page 128. 
" Soul of our soul, the life itself of life.'''' 

The consciousness of personal identity, the most important fact in the 
history of the human mind, establishes it beyond cavil as something distinct 
from matter. No conceivable refinement of the material theory can account 
for that great fact of our inner consciousness, by which we exist through 
life one and the same individual being. That this individuality will con- 
tinue after death, we have, independently of revelation, proofs drawn from 
our moral and intellectual constitution. It is only by a future state that 
harmony can be established in our moral nature — the order of things in this 
world vindicated — the universe relieved from the imputation of being with- 
out a purpose — the great panorama of nature an idle theatre for the tran- 
sient development of evanescent beings. The more we consider the world, 
the more, as Rothe observes in his recently-published lectures, do we feel 
that it has a moral purpose, which moral purpose is only to be sought for 
in man. 



Page 136. 
" Oft men by slow degrees are seen to die.'''' 

All the arguments against a future state drawn from the intimate connec- 
tion of soul and body in this life are founded on narrow views of the essen- 
tial nature of the soul, and regard all mental acts and affections as mere 
functions of the body, or the resultants of material organization, although 
there is no correlation between mental and material phenomena. There is in 
mind an originating principle of action. The mind itself is a primal cause, 
whereas matter can only act as it is acted on from without. To subject 
mind to motives, as matter is subject to external forces, to bind it in a 
chain of necessary causes, while it takes away the foundation of the com- 
mon notion of moral desert, is to contradict the innate sense of free-will, 
an ultimate fact of consciousness ; which for us must be regarded as true, 
or there can be no foundation of rational belief. 



Notes. 321 

Page 147. 
ii When once the chain of consciousness is broke.' 1 
That is, such interruption of our consciousness would destroy our per- 
sonal identity. — See Bishop Butler, on Personal Identity. 

Page 148. 

" Or suffocate in sweets.' 1 '' 

This denotes one mode of burial, that of embalming and laying in a sar- 
cophagus. Though, in the time of Lucretius, burning on a funeral pile and 
gathering the ashes in an urn was the common method, the other was also 
practised. The numerous sarcophagi of all ages is a sufficient proof of this. 
Honey was a principal means of preserving a dead body. 

Page 149. 

" And cry i Alas ! No joyotcs home shall thee 
Receive again ; nor wife, nor children deary 

"For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, 
Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; 
No children run to lisp their sire's return, 
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. " 

Gray's Elegy. 

Page 151. 

" Since future must be ever like the past ? " 

So says the Preacher, i. 9 : " The thing that has been is that which shall 
be ; and that which is done is that which shall be done ; and there is no 
new thing under the sun." 



BOOK IV. 

Page 1 60. 
" Things then, I say, from off their surface throw 
Thin effigies ." 
The theory of emanations as the cause of perception was generally 
adopted by the Greek philosophers. The " eidola," images, spectra, which 
play so important a part in ancient and even modern philosophy. It was 
21 



322 Notes. 

supposed that some medium was necessarily interposed between the percep- 
tive agent and the object perceived. The medium was generally supposed 
to be some emanation from the object ; but one theory maintained the 
doctrine of emissions from the eye. Locke says, Essay ii. 8, 12 : "Since 
the extension, figure, number, and motion of bodies of an observable bigness 
may be perceived at a distance by the sight, it is evident that some singly 
imperceptible bodies must come from them to the eye. 

Page 163. 
11 Sometimes a giant shape seems as in flight 
To draw a lengthened shadozv o'er the sky ; 
Or monster huge.'''' 
Such appearances seem to have tickled the fancies of the poets. Shake- 
speare's " Anthony " has all the objects mentioned by Lucretius. "A 
cloud thafs dragonish ; a vapor sometimes a bear, or lion, a towered 
citadel, a pendant rock, etc. His Hamlet, a camel, a weasel, very like a 
whale, perhaps the very " monster huge " of Lucretius. "Wordsworth, an 
Ararat, a lion, a crocodile. 

Page 167. 

" In single act 
We see a thing, and what its distance is." 

Habit making the whole appear one and the same operation ; just as in 
fact habit makes the seeing a solid object, and the inference that it is solid 
appear but a single operation. Lucretius seems to have thoroughly felt 
that distance was not perceived by the eye, but was a matter of mere infer- 
ence. — Munro. 

Page 169. 

" For with what slope 
They fall, Nature compels them to revert again." 

Very probably he refers to the angle of reflexion being equal to the angle 
of incidence. 

Page 171. 
" A wondrous heaven bosomed in the earth." 
Shelley beautifully enlarges on this theme : 

" We paused beneath the pools that lie 
Under the forest bough, 
Each seemed as ' twere a little sky 
Gulphed in a world below ; 



Notes, 323 

A firmament of purple light, 

Which in the dark earth lay, 
In which the purple forests grew 

As in the upper air. ..." 

Page 175. 

" Sound and voice 
Through ear insinuate, there acts on sense 
With body:' 

That is manifestly by impulse, the only way we can conceive bodies to 
operate in, says Locke (Essay ii. 8, 11). What follows has many points 
of singular agreement with what Lucretius says here and in parts of Book 
II. 

Page 184. 
" Here guard against the folly to believe 
That eyes were made to see.'''' 

This is the doctrine of a modern school of naturalists, who regard all 
recognition of final causes as a remnant of superstition. It is idle, they 
hold, to inquire into the object, the end, the why, of organization. Organs 
do not exist for the sake of an end, but attain that end because they exist. 
Birds fly because they have wings — wings were not contrived and given 
them that they might fly. They hold in general that function is a result 
of organization, not an end to be obtained by it. This is a radical denial 
of all finality in nature, a denial of pre-existing Intelligence. It substitutes 
a blind working of nature for an Intelligence working in it, and makes a 
universal mechanism the only principle, the only cause. 

To those who deny a Divine Intelligence this is a forced conclusion — 
those who refuse to admit a Designer must deny the evidence of design. 
To recognize in nature traces of a plan of design is already to affirm an or- 
ganizing Intelligence. To admit final causes is to acknowledge Intelligence 
as the principle, the origin, and source of all things. All organized beings 
have their own proper means of life, as numerous in the variations of their 
mechanism as the stars of heaven. A part of these adaptations we can see, 
but an infinite number more are beyond our observation. But seeing a 
part of these designed relations, it is a logical contradiction not to admit at 
the foundation an organizing Intelligence, as having ordained and estab- 
lished all things. As Newton, after explaining the laws of light, asks if 
the eye could have been formed without a knowledge of the laws of optics, 
or the ear without knowledge of the laws of sound. 

The research of final causes may not be a safe guide in the investigation 



324 Notes. 

of the facts of nature ; they may not be a method of discovery, but they 
will always remain as the result and conclusion of our study of nature ; and 
the irresistible inference from them of an organizing and presiding Mind, 
will be little disturbed in the common apprehension of mankind by the in- 
troversions of empirical philosophy. 

Page 185. 

" ' Tis easy to believe that things contrived 
To minister to purposes of life 
Were for their tcse contrived ; but different far 
With limbs and organs" 

Aristotle (De Phrt. Animal., i. 5, iv. 10), in his brilliant statement on 
the side of final causes, goes over much the same ground as Lucretius here, 
and comes to exactly opposite conclusions ; he uses the tools made by man 
as a proof that the tools made by nature had the same end in view — the 
hand being as a tool for the use of tools ; the body and all its parts are 
made for the functions they perform, as the saw is made for the sake of 
sawing — the sawing is not done for the sake of the saw. 

" We can understand how man creates or constructs consciously and by 
design, and see if we do not understand how nature by a law calls into being 
an organic structure, but the intermediate organism which stands between 
man and nature, which is the work of mind yet unconscious, and in which 
mind and matter seem to meet ... is neither understood nor seen by us, 
and is with reluctance admitted to be a fact." — Jowett, Plato, i. 650. 



BOOK V. 



Page 203. 

" That when the dead seem on our sight to rise, 
1 ] Tis pJiantoms only that deceive the mind.'''' 

So far as the general theory of images is concerned, this point can form 
but a very small part of it ; but morally speaking, to an Epicurean it is the 
most important of all, as the great end of physics is to free men from relig- 
ion and the fear of death ; hence the earnestness with which Lucretius in- 
sists upon it. — Munro. 



Notes. 325 

Page 205. 
" Which far may ruling Fortune ward from us." 

This comes to the same thing as the "ruling nature " of a previous line, 
as the Epicurean nature is, at one and the* same time, blind chance and in- 
exorable necessity. — Munro. 



Page 205. 

" The earth, the sea, the sun, the stars, themselves 
Are gods. ' ' 

This is directed mainly against the Stoics and their anima mundi. But 
Aristotle and the Peripatetics, whose teaching on these points is notorious, 
are therefore doubtless joined with the Stoics by Lucretius. 



Page 206. 

" Nor can we more believe the sacred seat 
Of the i?nmortal gods. " 

That Epicurus and Lucretius believed in these gods, is certain 
Nothing can be more distinct and outspoken than the words attributed to 
Epicurus by Diogenes Laertius. The gods indeed are, but they are not as 
the many believe them to be. He is not an infidel (adef3r/S) who denies 
the gods of the many, but he who fastens on the gods the opinions of the 
many. — Max Muller, Science of Language, ii. 448. 



Page 209. 

" Fills all the place around with mournful cries." 

St. Austin changes to bitter earnest the irony of the Epicureans. He 
says: "Why does he begin life with weeping? Why, as he does not 
know how to laugh, does he know how to cry ? because he has entered on 
life. Lear (iv. 6) carries the "pathetic fallacy" a step farther, and 
makes the baby cry, not for his own misery, but for his neighbor's folly: 
"Thou knowest the first time we smell the air we wawl and cry. When 
we are born we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools." Pliny 
{Nat. Hist. , viii. ) takes the same dismal view. 



326 Notes. 

Page 211. 
" And thus the universal parent, Earth, 
Is of all things the universal tomb." 

" The Earth, that's Nature's mother, is her tomb, 
What is her burying grave that is her womb." 

Romeo and Juliet. 

" The womb of nature and perhaps her tomb." 

Milton. 

Page 216. 
"As the old Grecian poets sung—fabling." 

Of the passage in Book II., which the verse quoted introduces, Mr. 
Grote says {Hist, of Greece, i. 33, n.): "The fine description given by 
Lucretius of the Phrygian worship is much enfeebled by his unsatisfactory 
allegorizing." But this moralizing is the very condition of the existence of 
such passages as that one and the present. He would not and could not 
otherwise have written them ; and to my mind it is extremely interesting 
to see his intense love of these seductive fancies, and the struggle between 
his instincts as a poet and his philosophical principles. — Munro. 

Page 220. 
" Which in this orb prevails, "'twere hard to tell! " 

The contempt which Epicurus had for astronomers and other system 
mongers, and the doctrine he held respecting celestial phenomena, is one of 
the most curious features of his philosophy. Whatever could be brought 
to the test of sense and was confirmed by it, was true. All opinions, again, 
which could not be brought to such test, and at the same time were not 
contradicted by it, were to be held to be equally true. But to say that the 
sun and stars move from some one controlling cause, or that celestial phe- 
nomena, eclipses, and the like, admit of only one explanation, is an unphilo- 
sophical assumption, since they are beyond our power of observation, and 
there are many ways of explaining them equally probable. 

Page 220. 
" That Earth in centre of the Universe." 

Lucretius does not tell us what the shape of the earth is ; he must have 
conceived it as presenting a surface more or less flat above and below. He 
conceived it as forming a sort of organic body with the air ; like the human 
body with which he proceeds to compare it. A Stoic might have argued 



Notes. 327 

that, after all, his mode of supporting his earth in space did not so much dif- 
fer from theirs ; but what he objected to in them was their making the 
universe finite, which, he argued, could not be held together in an infinite 
void. 

Page 223. 
" Holds secret stores of hidden fire around 
His fulgent head, that darksome lie" 

This remarkable passage has been thought to refer to the heat -bearing 
non-luminous rays that form, as we now know, so important a part of the 
sun's radiation. 

Page 227. 
" Why, boldly confident, affirm the one." 

The reasoning here is much the same as in the preceding sections ; any 
of these theories may be true, and as none can be proved not to be true, 
none being opposed to sense, all are equally true ; any one, therefore, may 
afford that legitimate calmness the attainment of which was the end Epicu- 
rus and Lucretius had before them, and not the vahi ambition to propagate 
idle mathematical or other theories. — Munro. 



Page 228. 
" While, through the long cone of the darkened shade.'''' 

Considering what Epicurus' and Lucretius' conceptions were of the shape 
of the earth, they must surely have blindly accepted from astronomers the 
fact of its conical shadow. 



Page 231. 
" How must have perished then unnumbered tribes." 

This looks like a faint poetical anticipation of the theory of "natural 
selection." Those only survive who are the best fitted to the conditions 
on which their existence depends. The " survival of the fittest " is a truth 
which readily presents itself to any one considering the subject, and the 
converse, the destruction of the least fit, was recognized thousands of years 
ago, as we see in our present passage. Yet it is only of late that it has 
been brought prominently forward, by a distinguished naturalist, and made 
the ground of the widest speculation and, it would seem, of much unwar- 
ranted inference. 



328 Notes. 

Page 235. 
" And purple haws that winter blushing shows" 

At the present day, in December, you may see large tracts of the Pelo- 
ponnesus covered with the arbute trees laden with their bright scarlet fruit. 
— Munro. 

Page 238. 
" Nature impelled their tongues to varied sounds." 

He now comes to a question much agitated among philosophers, whether 
names are natural or given arbitrarily. Epicurus held that they were natu- 
ral, as explained by Lucretius here. Plato, in the Cratylus, appears to 
have agreed pretty nearly with Epicurus and Lucretius. Democritus and 
Aristotle seem to have held the contrary opinion. — Munro. 

What is the result of recent speculations about the origin and nature of 
language ? Like other modern metaphysical inquiries, they end at last in a 
statement of facts. In the psychological, or historical, or physiological 
study of language we may find an inexhaustible mine of inquiry into facts. 
But we hardly seem to make any nearer approach to the secret of the 
origin of language, which, like some other great secrets of nature — the 
origin of birth and death, or of animal life — remain inviolable. The com- 
parison of children learning to speak, of barbarous nations, of musical 
notes, of the cries of animals, afford great assistance in the analogies of 
language, but throw no light upon its first origin. That problem seems to 
be irretrievably bound up with the origin of man ; and if we ever know 
more of the one, we may expect to know more of the other. — Jowett, 
Plato, Intro, to the Cratylus. 

Page 243. 
" In earliest times the dying races saw." 

Lucretius means to say that all these sensible impressions of the form, 
size, and beauty of the gods are true, even that of their immortality. It is 
only the mental inferences added to these impressions that are false, that of 
their power and strength and providence. — Munro. 

Page 245. 
"For when we lift our eyes.'''' 

It is true piety not to perform these ceremonies, but to have a mind at 
ease ; for it requires great strength of mind and a knowledge of the true 
being of the gods, not to be overpowered by the grandeur and terror of 

nature. 



Notes. 329 

Page 246. 
" A power unseen thus crushes human things." 

Bayle (art. Lucrece) accuses Lucretius of gross inconsistency in speaking 
of this "hidden power," when at the same time he attributes all things to 
the necessary movement of atoms, "cause qui ne sait ou elle va ni ce 
qu'elle fait ; " but this very " cause " is the hidden power. It is true that as 
far as form and expression are concerned there is a struggle between the 
poet's imagination and the philosopher's creed. Lucretius is here speaking, 
of course, generally ; but it is not unlikely that his fancy may have been 
caught by reading of some striking disaster of this kind, such as that of M. 
Claudius Marcellus, who perished in this way just before the third Punic 
war. — Munro. 

Page 247. 
" The ductile stream of gold, silver, or lead." 
Milton {Par. Lost, xi. 565) has imitated all this passage : 
" Two massy clods of iron and brass 
Had melted, whether found were casual fire 
Had wasted woods on mountains," etc. 



BOOK VI. 

Page 258. 
" Unfolding the true good, the aim of all." 

The summum bonum, according to Epicurus, consisted in health of 
body and untroubled peace of mind. Pleasure was the end of a happy 
life. But he, like Lucretius, goes on to explain that when he says that 
pleasure is the end and chief good, he does not mean what the ignorant and 
malevolent allege that he does, but not to suffer pain in body or trouble 
of mind. 

Page 259. 
" And ignorance of causes them compel." 

The ignorance of the causes of great natural phenomena was a fruitful 
source of superstition ; hence he goes on to explain thunder-storms, volca- 
noes, earthquakes, etc. The argument for the practical purposes contem- 
plated by the author is complete ; but the continuity of the argument is 



33° Notes, 

sometimes broken, and the mass of materials in this and in the preceding 
book is not brought into harmony with the plan of the work. Certain un- 
finished parts, and the not unfrequent repetitions, show that the work did 
not receive his last touches, while the highly finished introductions show 
how carefully and artistically the whole work was planned. 

Page 278. 
" And once in ^Sgium." 

He alludes to the famous earthquake of B.C. 372, which swallowed up 
Helice and Bera, and ten Lacedaemonian triremes anchored off the coast. 
He mentions JEgiam, as it was in his time the chief city of Achaia, and near 
the two in question. 

Page 278. 
" How then do smitten populations quake." 

He loses no occasion of reminding us how great the delusion of many is 
in supposing that our world is eternal. This he has before refuted at great 
length. Our world and every other world will perish, as certainly as the 
universe will be immortal and unchangeable for ever. — Munro. 

Page 281. 
"Roll high the flames ejecting sand and rocks." 

Lucretius shows here his habitual accuracy of observation and vividness 
of description. All the principal features of an eruption are brought into 
clear relief. 

Page 287. 
" As the sweet water of 
The Aradian spring." 

Aradus, an island on the coast of Phoenicia ; this fountain was very fa- 
mous ; "it is said to be in use at the present day. Similar springs are men- 
tioned in other places. 

Page 288. 
" The stone called Magnet by the Greeks, — since first 
''Mong the Magnesians found" 

Magnesia was a region in Lydia, of which the inhabitants were called 
Magnetes or Magnesians ; and from them, according to Lucretius and 
others, the magnet was named. He dwells on the magnet at what seems 



Notes. 331 

so disproportionate a length, because the phenomena seemed to him to 
illustrate so many of his first principles. 

Page 292. 
" Acting on it through interposed brass.'*'' 

Lucretius is here completely mistaken from too hasty induction ; the 
action of the magnet is not sensibly affected by the interposition of any 
body which is not sensibly magnetical ; nay, it works equally well in a 
vacuum. This, by the way, overthrows the poet's argument, where he 
brings in his favorite air to assist in explaining the attraction between the 
loadstone and iron. But if Lucretius has failed in solving the mystery no 
one seems to have succeeded. — Munro. 



Page 295. 
" Such the disease — such the death-bearing gales" 

The poet, wishing to illustrate what he has laid down as the causes of dis- 
ease, concludes his poem with this description, which is an imitation, in many 
parts a close translation, of Thucydides, ii. 47, 54. One would infer 
from the words of Lucretius that he had no practical or scientific knowledge 
of any such like form of disease. He is content to take on trust what- 
ever the historian says, and more than once misapprehends or misinterprets 
his words. I have looked into many professional accounts of this famous 
plague ; the writers, almost without exception, praise Thucydides' accuracy 
and precision, and differ most strangely in the conclusions they draw from 
his words. I can name physicians, English, French, and German, who, 
after having examined the symptoms, have decided that it was each of the 
following maladies : typhus, scarlet, putrid, yellow, camp, hospital, jail 
fever, scarlatina maligna, the black death, erysipelas, small-pox, the Orien- 
tal plague, some wholly extinct form of disease ; each succeeding writer 
succeeds at least in throwing doubt on his predecessor's diagnosis. Lucre- 
tius' copy must manifestly be even more vague and inconclusive. The 
truth is, that having laid down his general principles of disease and vindi- 
cated his philosophy, he seeks now to satisfy his poetical feeling by a pow- 
erful and pathetical description, which he has plainly left in an unfinished 
state. He has been imitated in turn by Virgil (Geor., hi. 478), closely 
by Ovid (Met., vii. 523), by Livy more than once, and by others. The 
description of the plague of Florence in 1348, with which the Decameron 
opens, and that of Defoe of the Plague of London, are well known. — 
Munro. 



332 Notes. 

Page 295. 
" Coming from Egypt'' s borders far withdrawn." 

Egypt and Ethiopia, says Gibbon (Ch. xliii.), have been stigmatized in 
every age as the great source and seminary of the plague. In the damp, 
hot, stagnating air this African fever is generated from the putrefaction of 
animal substances, and especially from the swarms of locusts, not less de- 
structive to mankind in their death than in their lives. 

Lucretius makes the vitiated atmosphere of Egypt put itself in motion, 
and travelling over much sea and land at last arrives at Athens. Thucydi- 
des says no such thing. With his usual caution he tells us it began, as was 
said, in Ethiopia, and descended to Egypt and Persia, and suddenly broke 
out at Athens, beginning with the " Piraeus," so that possibly a ship carried 
it directly from Egypt. It appears that this terrific malady had been rag- 
ing for some time throughout the regions around the Mediterranean, and 
about sixteen years before, there had been a similar calamity at Rome and 
in various parts of Italy. 

Page 297. 

*' Then many signs precursors were of Death." 

The symptoms that follow are not found in Thucydides ; they appear, 
most of them at least, to be derived from the writings of Hippocrates, and 
not to have any special reference to this plague. Lucretius seems to forget 
for the time that he is describing the gradual progress of a disease in which 
some died and others recovered, as is told farther on ; and to think only of 
drawing a moving picture of the signs of coming death. — Munro. 

Page 297. 

" Or with the ninth they yielded up their life.'''' 

He now returns to Thucydides, whose meaning he has in some points 
misapprehended, and introduced some circumstances not mentioned by him. 

Page 300. 

" The stricken crowds of husbandmen poured in." 

The extraordinary accumulation of people within the city and long walls 
was in consequence of the Lacedaemonian invasion that at this time devas- 
tated Attica. This accumulation, and the mental chagrin from the forced 
abandonment and sacrifice of their properties in the country, transmitted 
the contagion with fatal facility from one to the other. 



Notes. 333 

Page 300. 
" Impending grief 0' 'er -powered 
All former feelings, habits, atid regards" 

The melancholy picture of society under the pressure of a murderous epi- 
demic, with its train of physical torments, wretchedness, and demoralization, 
has been drawn by more than one eminent author ; but by none with more 
impressive fidelity than by Thucydides, who had no predecessor, and 
nothing but the reality to copy from. We may remark that amid all the 
melancholy accompaniments of the time, there are no human sacrifices, 
such as those offered up at Carthage during pestilence to appease the anger 
of the gods — there are no cruel persecutions against imaginary authors of 
the disease, such as those against the Untori (anointers of walls) in the 
plague of Milan in 1630. — Grote, Hist, of Greece, vi. 132. 

Page 300. 
" No decent rites of sepulture remained.'*'' 

Nothing could show more forcibly the weight of the calamity than this 
neglect of funeral rites by the Athenians, who of all people were the most 
scrupulous in their observance of them. The end of the poem is manifestly 
in an unfinished state. Some verses have no connection with the context, 
and it is not improbable they are incomplete sketches and marginal additions 
of the poet, which he intended but did not live to embody with the rest of 
the poem. 



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